


Planetary Alignment

by Roslyn_Frisson



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14092689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roslyn_Frisson/pseuds/Roslyn_Frisson
Summary: PWP. Instead of discussing their feelings like grownups, Jim and Blair use alcohol and herbal abuse (slight and mostly accidental) to discover how they feel about each other. Warning: Completely unrealistic refractory periods.





	1. Thanks for the Herbal Remedies

Blair Sandburg--grad student, police observer, Shaman of the Great City and uncompensated-by-coin-of-the-realm guide to his very own sentinel--lay back on his very firm futon and tried to relax. He was waiting, with a fine edge of impatience, for that blessed black wave of slumber to flow on over and wrap him up. He could feel it out there, lapping gently at the edges of consciousness, but so far the hamster wheel of his thoughts seemed to be keeping it at bay. 

Blair blew out his breath in a soft snort of disgust. Here he was, sent home like some second string freshman just because he was a little bit tired. You’d think Jim could smell it on him, the way he’d sent him packing....ohh. Maybe he could!

Oh, wow. Maybe Jim actually could smell how tired he was, maybe could even smell that he was most likely coming down with something from being stretched so thin, thin as the taut dry drumskin that had started to pound faintly behind his eyes earlier that afternoon, and no wonder there, up late grading papers, up early to make it to that wretched class he'd foolishly agreed to cover for a friend in a bind, then his own classes, then the unbe-fucking-lievedly asinine last minute staff meeting, which made him have to wolf down that vending machine sandwich with the delightful consistency of something approaching turquoise for lunch instead of some nice deli, or Thai, or simply anything with Jim, and then the heavens opening up on him afterwards as he'd sprinted for the car, which started muttering dark, ominous noises on the way to the station as he finally did head there, noises which of course started the whole financial worry routine running in the back of his brain (which actually made an interesting counterpoint to the drumming).

And then, to finally bound into the station only a teensy bit late so that he could accompany Jim on some dismal stake-out (and what did that say about his current state of existence, that that was the bright spot of the entire day that he had been using as a freaking guiding beacon just to get through all the rest), only to have Jim take one look at him with those laser blue eyes and say "Forget it, Chief! You're going nowhere but home to bed." 

And he'd started to reach down, come up with some convincing song and dance, just some razzle-dazzle routine he should have been able to pull out even in his sleep, for Pete's sake, to demonstrate his fitness, yea even unto eagerness, for duty at his Sentinel's side, but Jim had just leveled that iceberg gaze at him, clamped one large hand firmly (but so warmly!) onto his shoulder, turned him gently around and shooed him back into the elevator with definite, no-insurrection-will-be-brooked instructions to go straight home to the loft and get directly into bed, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars or a few hours alone with Jim.

Blair sat up with a shiver and wrapped an afghan over his thin t-shirt and boxers. Perhaps a little meditation was in order here. He needed to focus and relax, forget about all the petty little tribulations of the day. With a sigh, he folded himself into position, assuming the lotus with the ease of much practice. Eyes closed, he looked at, accepted and released his annoyance with himself for taking on his friend's class when he was already overextended. It wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last. Tommy was a good friend and could be counted on to return the favor and anyway, he could use all the good karma points he could get right now.

The meeting was more difficult. Having to forego lunch with Jim for an inane, last-minute policy meeting had been irksome, but he knew he might as well curse the rain. Come to think of it, he had. There were times when he really had to question Rainier (and that was an apt name if there ever was one) as his choice of places to matriculate. But then, if he had chosen someplace warmer and drier, he might never have met Jim--another shiver shook him as he shied away from that line of thought. Their "chance" meeting at such a critical moment in the re-entrance of Jim's senses on the scene had done much to realign Blair's entire concept of fate, destiny, predetermination, call it what you will.

The very thought of Jim being left guideless, possibly ending up in a padded room, or worse, was enough to knock the serenity right out of the best of meditational moments. Blair found himself unfolding abruptly and pacing briskly about his small room, suddenly back at square one in his quest for rest. 

This was all Jim's fault, anyway. He could have been snoozing contentedly in the warm cab of the truck, Jim's large, comforting presence just an arm's length away, but noooo. Jim had to go all Big Brother on him and send him home, just because his eyes were putting on a pretty good raccoon impression. Didn't he know just being near the big guy helped recharge his batteries? One could almost think Jim was trying to get rid of him, the way he'd hustled him right back out of the station, practically bundling him into the Volvo. Come to think of it, there'd been a decidedly guilty look on that bright-hewn visage when he had said as much, albeit teasingly. Blair stopped in mid-stride, eyes narrowing to slits. Now that he was thinking of it, Jim had almost looked...relieved...as he patted the car door and stepped back while Blair fumbled with the clutch. Just what was he up to anyway?

Blair stalked out to the couch and sat down. All right, no reason to get bent out of shape. There had to be some explanation. Come to think of it, Jim had seemed a little extra distant lately, though probably not to the casual observer. To the casual observer, now, Jim probably seemed to be just his same old, semi-detached, heavily repressed, adorably anal self. But he, Blair, was certainly more than a casual observer. He was a highly trained anthropologist observer, by golly, and that was why he alone could pick up on the subtle differences between normal stoic Jim Ellison behavior and I'm-hiding-something, stoic Jim Ellison behavior. 

And come to think of it, now that he actually had a moment or two to himself to actually do such a thing, the man had been acting just a little odd all week. He would have noticed it sooner if he hadn't been swamped up to the eyeballs, even if it was a subtle oddness. Just a bit more terse than usual, a little quick to accept his several absences from the station, a tendency to look away suddenly if Blair were to turn or glance his way unexpectedly, almost as if he'd been caught staring.

And now, today, Jim affably brushing off his phoned apology about lunch, cracking jokes about how he'd take it out of his hide later, then that weird moment at the station when Blair had walked in, the strange look on Jim's face...it was gone so quickly, he could have misread it, that strange look of simultaneous pleasure and dismay, like he had bitten into something sweet and it turned out to be sour... no. No, it was more like Jim had taken a big bite of a crunchy, sour dill pickle and it turned out to be sweet...whatever, it was weird. And then Jim had practically carried him back out to the car, explaining the whole time how this wasn't any big deal, just a simple stake-out, no danger of zoning and he hadn't in weeks anyhow and he'd be extra special careful and it was important for Blair to go home and get some rest for pity's sake, he looked bad enough to go undercover as a junkie.

Blair bristled all over again at the memory. He'd been so taken aback, so rattled at the untoward reception and send-off, that he was actually nearly struck speechless. At least the Volvo had stopped churning out that unnerving noise, almost like a horse that knew it was headed for the barn. All the way home things had tumbled around in his brain until the edges were smooth and he still hadn't begun to get a grip. All the way up the stairs, in the door, peeling off sodden clothing on the way to the bathroom, until the blissful heat of the shower drove all thought from his head, even as he tried to drive the chill from his body. It had been the sort of bone deep chill only truly experienced by the very weary or maybe someone coming down with the flu, or at least a mammoth cold, and memory of it alone caused Blair to pull the throw more snugly and contemplate some hot tea. Yeah, maybe they had some of that Echinacea tea left, if he hadn't force-fed all of it to Jim last time it looked like he was coming down with something. (Jim with a cold was not unlike a bear with a sore head and even if you were pretty sure the bear was fond of you, it still made for iffy company.)

Two steps toward the kitchen, he heard a knock on the door. He clutched the throw more tightly across his shoulders. Who could that be? Jim wouldn't knock, unless he'd lost his keys and that was highly very unlikely. He certainly wasn't expecting anyone. In point of fact, he'd made it very clear to more than one sweet young co-ed from Tom's class that he couldn't help her with her assignment this evening because he had to function in his official capacity as a police observer. Door-to-door salespeople were pretty rare creatures in this neck of the woods, besides, Jim had a large "No Soliciting-This Means You" sign posted right on the door.

While these musings were coursing through Blair's admittedly a-bit-muzzier-than-usual brain, the mysterious knocker grew impatient and pounded on the door again. Blair managed to summon up the initiative to go to the peephole and spy out the visitor. He put his eye to the gold-rimmed fishbowl lens and discovered that it made Bruce, the local UPS guy, look only a little more distorted than usual.

"Bruce!" Blair flung the door open with an enthusiasm born of relief. A guy could only get kidnapped and/or assaulted so many times before he developed a sense of caution. "Sorry to make you wait, man!"

Bruce returned his welcoming smile and commented with a dry chuckle, "That’s okay. I only wish 203 would greet me dressed like that!"

Blair glanced down at his extremely casual attire, only slightly abashed.

"Sorry, man. I was napping and forgot."

Handing over the electronic receipt pad, Bruce chuckled. "Guess I should be glad you weren't sleeping commando, eh?"

Blair grinned at him as he scribbled. "I bet you say that to all the girls. Give over the goods, buddy, I already signed my life away."

"Here you go. Maybe it's some pants, eh?"

"Ha! Good one, Bruce. See ya!"

Blair accepted the package and the teasing with his usual good grace and turned back into the apartment, carefully closing and locking the door behind him. Wouldn't do to have Jim come home and go all Blessed Protector on him. Though come to think of it, that had a certain ring to it...

Blair wasn't at all sure when his feelings of deep friendship for his large, muscular--not to mention male--roommate had started spreading out, blurring the line between platonic love into new, lust-ridden territory. Sure, he'd been attracted to other men before, but always in a short-lived, crush kind of way, and not since his early twenties, really. And he'd never really acted on the impulse. That one fumbling, drunken little incident with Cory Hensen his first year in college didn't count. That had had been more about mutual comfort, anyway. Just two young guys alone and lonely in a great big world. This was something different. Deeper. Definitely more intense. 

So far he'd been content to just ride it out, trying to be satisfied with proximity instead of intimacy. They were already on more intimate terms than any other relationship he'd ever had, their friendship permeating almost every aspect of both their lives. Then one day, hard at work with his laptop at the table, he’d glanced up, caught a glimpse of Jim sprawled comfortably out on the couch, white-socked feet propped up on the arm, and, just that quickly, been engulfed with desire. Suddenly his mouth had gone dry, all his pulse points were pounding and there was serious danger of some kind of heat index alert being set off by certain parts of his anatomy. Worse yet, Jim had jerked upright and given him one of those laser beam scans.

"Chief?" he'd queried and Blair had never been so grateful for the presence of a piece of furniture before in his entire life.

"S'okay, man, I'm okay!" he'd soothed, "Just reliving a memory!" 

Then he'd groaned inwardly as he *saw* Jim take in a questing scent and  
damned if that didn't set off another rolling, flashing wave of desire.  
Fortunately, sheer embarrassment began to win out over ardor and then Jim had given him one of those strange little smiles.

"Must've been a good one, Chief!" he’d said and settled back down to the program he was watching.

That was Blair's first wake up call. There had been more since, but Blair was nothing if not a quick study and he swiftly learned to avoid situations that might precipitate any such reaction, trying to give himself enough time to think this totally unexpected turn of events through. 

Unfortunately, he was starting to wear thin with the effort. Especially since it seemed like everything that had anything to do with Jim was starting to get him hot. Really hot. It was getting so the only way to keep from getting painfully aroused was to just stay away from him altogether and, dammit, that was not what he wanted. The question was, what did he want? It was time to stop dodging and start giving himself some straight answers.

Blair realized he was sitting on the couch hugging his UPS package to his chest. This situation must really be getting to him if he had taken to cuddling up with strange packages. He peered at the label on the box. Naomi! His mom had sent him something. Immediately, all thoughts of his current predicament were pushed to the background and he felt a childlike anticipation. Ripping the box open, he found several small ziplock bags, each with a neatly printed label, each filled with a conglomeration of what looked like dried leaves, grasses and flowers. He plucked a piece of brightly colored notepaper covered with his mother's flowing script out of their midst. 

_Blair Dearest,_  
_Hello darling! Hope this letter finds you well. I've been_  
_meditating about you. Is everything all right? It's been_  
_much too long since we were last together, but you know you_  
_are always in my thoughts and my heart. I hope to come visit_  
_very soon. (Tell Jim I’ll bring the sage.)_  


__

_I know you are wondering about the teas. I'm staying at this lovely_  
_commune near Frisco and I suggested that they try marketing_  
_their marvelous herbal teas to help support their beautiful way_  
_of life. Would you mind trying them out and letting me know_  
_what you think? I know I can count on you to give me a_  
_heartfelt answer. There's no rush, just jot down what you_  
_think as you try each one. The lovely people here have come up_  
_with some amazing blends with great therapeutic benefits._  
_I think you will enjoy them._  


_Hugs and kisses_  


_Naomi_

Blair pressed the paper against his chest and blinked several times. It never ceased to amaze him how his mother, who could come off as flighty to the casual observer, always seemed to know when he needed her. This was not the first time a card or a phone call out of the blue had helped to brighten an otherwise bleak moment. He folded the note carefully, planning to place it in the special box with all the others. Sometimes, when he was feeling rootless and alone, he would pull out his box filled with her letters and read them one by one until he could almost feel her in the room with him. And usually, soon after, he would get a phone call from her, just checking in. 

Funny, he hadn't felt that need since soon after moving in with Jim. Jim had made him feel grounded, like he had a home, like he belonged. And that was what he was afraid of losing by giving into his desire and letting Jim know how he felt. Blair could feel his anxiety rising at the prospect of putting it all on the line, but he couldn't see any other way around it. He wasn't being much use as a Guide in his current state and he couldn't see things getting any better left the way they were. He'd held out some hope that things would just go back to normal on their own, that perhaps this constant aching urge he had, to just wrap himself up in Jim Ellison and never let go, was due to some rare planetary alignment and the next moon phase would clear everything up. 

So far, that plan didn't seem to be panning out.

Blair looked over the bags of tea and wondered if there might be something there to help him relax. He really needed some rest and the thought of Jim's annoyance if he came home and found that Blair hadn't followed orders was only serving to tense him up more. He started reading labels.

The first one, labeled "Giddy-up", seemed to be along the lines of a morning pick-me-up, another, "Good Health", an overall system tonic. The third, "After Dinner", was labeled a dessert tea, which sounded kind of intriguing, but the last seemed to be just what his situation called for. "Sweet Dreams". He ran a cursory eye over the list of ingredients. Echinacea and golden seal should be helpful in fighting off any virus he might have picked up, the peppermint and lemon grass flavorful and the chamomile and lavender would be soothing. He wasn't sure what catmint was, but 'mint' usually meant something good and the valerian would definitely help him sleep. Then he saw the personal note at the edge of the label. 

_Blair honey,_  
_I made sure they left out the licorice root._  
_Love, Mom_

Blair smiled. Naomi used to tease him about hating licorice root in his tea, even though he always bought licorice candy at the movies. Eating licorice and drinking it are two entirely different things, he would tell her. Still smiling, he gathered up his bounty, carried it into the kitchen and set about brewing up some tea. He went through the familiar motions on autopilot as his thoughts wandered back to the object of his desire. He was just going to have to talk to Jim about this. After all, what was the worst that could happen? Several unpleasant scenarios came readily to mind. Fortunately the teakettle began to whistle before any became too graphic. He warmed a mug with the hot water, emptied it, then dropped in the teaball full of herbs. Pouring more hot water into the mug, Blair searched for some way to gently break the news to Jim, best buddy, roommate and large male cop, that he, Blair Sandburg, his partner, his friend, his Guide with a capital G, thankyouverymuch, was warm for his form.

Returning to the couch, Blair cradled the mug on his knees, breathing deeply of the steam. Sweet. A hint of lemon and something else tangy. He tried a tiny sip, sucking in cooling air with the hot liquid. Rolling it around on his tongue, he tried to separate the various flavors. This was something for which Sentinel senses would be useful. He could think of a few other things as well. He took another careful sip and rested his head against the back of the couch. If he closed his eyes, he could conjure up an image of Jim. Mmm, yeah, maybe wearing that deep red shirt. Maybe taking it off, unbuttoning it slowly like he was thinking about taking a shower, but then he gets the last button undone and suddenly that laser-like gaze is piercing him, pinning him to the couch. Jim kind of smirks and says, "Whatcha lookin' at, Chief? See something you like?" Eyes narrowing dangerously, suddenly Jim looms over him, large and intimidating. "You want a piece of me, Chief? That what you want?"

Blair moaned low in his throat and rolled his head back and forth against the couch. Sitting up, he pushed the fantasy away, casting a wry glance down at his building erection. Okay, buddy, simmer down. Nothing to see here, just move along! He took another, bigger drink of his cooling tea. Hopefully this stuff would help take a little of the edge off, turn his own dials down a little so that he could get some rest. Another gulp and he felt the warm liquid slide down, easing his clenched stomach, the heat helping to relax muscles he hadn't even realized were tight. Stuff tasted all right, sweet but not cloying, the hints of peppermint opening nasal passages and soothing more of his internal distress, no doubt caused by trying to keep so much bottled in. Well, there was only one remedy for that. Resolute now, he drained his cup and carried it back into the kitchen. Wouldn't do to leave evidence of blatant house rule breakage laying about just when he hoped to have a life-changing discussion with the man. Yawning, Blair clutched his afghan closer and padded toward his room. He wasn't sure if it was the tea or finally coming to the decision to have it out with Jim, but he felt relaxed now, sleepy even, as if he could actually drift off this time.

Stretching out once more, Blair wrapped the afghan around himself and then a comforting hand around his still-restive penis.

"There, there, big fella. Even if Jim throws us out on our ear, we'll still have each other." He managed to give himself a soothing stroke or two before the dark tide came and swept him away. 


	2. Meanwhile

Jim Ellison, Cascade police detective, ex-Army Ranger, Sentinel of The Great City and Blessed Protector of one Blair Sandburg, was dawdling. He knew it, his boss knew it, he was pretty sure that everyone in the bullpen knew it.

The stake-out had ended early and quite abruptly when the Future Pharmacologists of America he’d been surveilling had suddenly burst forth from the nearest available exit of the small, dilapidated building, apparently attempting to escape a bad chemical reaction from their latest batch of illicit homemade drugs. Jim nabbed the two of them as they scrambled out of a window, a cloud of black smoke behind them threatening to darken the skies for blocks. Had the Cascade Fire Department not arrived in so timely a manner, armed with plenty of the latest chemical fire equipment, the situation could easily have become very ugly. As it was, there was one less firetrap for the city, the nasty chemical cloud was quickly contained and there was one less drug lab in operation.

Not a bad day's work, all in all. Jim found himself wishing Sandburg were there, to share the moment if not the paperwork. But even that was done, forms all filled out and filed neatly away. He cast about for something, anything, to keep busy, but for once it seemed as if everything was caught up. All the “t”s were crossed, all the “i”s were dotted. Where was a good crime when a guy needed it?

Simon came out of his office, dragging his jacket on over his long arms and chomping an unlit cigar. He cast his eye about the bullpen and Jim did his level best to become part of the background, just another cop dealing with paperwork, nothing to see here folks, just move along, but he could feel Simon bearing down on him like a friendly locomotive. One of Simon's large hands landed heavily on Jim's shoulder.

"That was some good work there, Ellison."

"Thank you, sir," Jim replied, fruitlessly hoping that would be the end of the exchange.

"You know, Jim, those senses of yours are really coming in handy now that you've got them under control," Simon continued, too quietly for anyone else to hear. "Twigging to that accident-in-the-making in time to get the fire department out there probably saved a few lives, not to mention the time we spent watching that place."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir"

"So, all finished here? Let's get out of this place."

"Well, sir, I've got some backlog I'd..."

"Nonsense! Come have a beer with your captain. You need to loosen up a bit before you go home anyway. You look tight enough to hum!"

"Uh, yes, sir."

And thus Jim found himself accompanying Simon to Reilly's. The evening crowd was just beginning to fill the place as the two men entered and found an empty table. Simon ordered some exotic beer and Jim had a local micro-brew Sandburg had discovered as they talked a little shop, letting the day unwind slowly around them. One beer became two and two became four before Jim was quite aware of it, but what the hell. He deserved a break, didn't he? Wasn't as if he hadn't been busting his hump these last couple of weeks, working this case and a half a dozen others--with precious little help from Sandburg, he might add. The little squirt had become pretty good at ducking out on him lately.

The part of Jim's brain that tended to stand apart and observe, even when he was good and drunk, which he wasn't right now, by the way, just pleasantly toasted, raised an eyebrow and pointed out that Sandburg had a pretty full plate of his own. Yeah, sure, he answered himself, but did he have to seem so relieved about it?

{Did he?}

Yeah, like he wasn't the one with relief stamped all over his face when he had sent Sandburg home tonight. Relief that he'd had an excuse to get Sandburg out of sight, out of reach, because one more evening in the close quarters of the truck, breathing in Sandburg's sweat, Sandburg's all natural, relatively unscented hygiene products, Sandburg's breath, for pity's sake, listening to his steady heartbeat keeping a sturdy bass line to the melody of his running commentary on everyone and everything around them, feeling the heat rising slowly off Blair's body and drifting across to him (sometimes he could almost see it), watching his hands flutter and swoop to punctuate his words; all that right there, in arm's reach, and he was very afraid that he would just reach out, reach across the truck, wrap one hand around that seldom-exposed nape, bury the other up to the wrist in all that hair and just haul him on over to his waiting mouth...  
Whoa now!!! Just a damned minute here! Had he just admitted to himself that he wanted

{lusted after}

Sandburg? Jim blinked at the bottle in his hand. Surely he wasn't that wasted, on just a couple--all right, four--beers? Belatedly he realized that Simon was saying something to him. With an effort he managed to tune in his shell-shocked brain.

"You're pretty quiet there, Jim. Something on your mind?"

"Ng," was all he could manage past the sudden constriction in his throat. The background noise of the small bar suddenly leapt to the fore, every conversation, every clink of a glass, of ice in the glasses, the smacking of lips, a drag on a cigarette, a woman's trilling laughter, all clamoring for his attention. Staggered, he slammed down his controls, adjusting dials, balancing levels.

“Jim! You all right?” 

"S'alright," Jim managed to cough. "Just choked. On a peanut. Gimme a sec." And he hacked and coughed for a moment until Simon quit giving him that uneven squinty look and stood down from his Heimlich Maneuver Crouch. 

“Better now?”

“Yeah. Sorry, Simon. I guess I’m just not very good company tonight. I’m, uh, I guess I’m a little worried about Sandburg.” It was always best to stick as close to the truth as possible. “He’s been kind of under the weather lately.”

"Yeah, I thought he was going along with you tonight, but then I saw you frog marching him out of the station like he had something catching. Hasn't really been much of an observer lately...."

A tiny frisson of alarm ran up Jim’s spine and he leapt to his partner’s defense.

"He was going to go, Simon, but he was so beat he would've just fallen asleep in the truck, so I sent him home." 

Simon harumphed.

"Staying out with Cindy again? Or is it that new girl in Records?"

Jealousy struck quick and deep, one to the heart, another to the belly. Where the hell had that come from? Jim swallowed hot bile before he could trust himself to open his mouth. "It's not like that. He's been burning the candle at both ends these last couple of weeks, covering for a friend and testing and riding with me..." 

"I just don’t like you being alone on the stake out, that's all I'm saying. Next time take Joel or somebody. So, give me the low down. What tipped you off about that chemical meltdown?"

"Oh. I was listening in. One of them said 'Hey, it's never done that before!' and another one said, 'No, you idiot, don't do that!' and then I caught a whiff. It just smelled like it was going to be bad."

"Well, it's a good thing you called me so I could alert the fire guys anonymously. I'd hate to try and explain how you knew before hand." 

"Yeah. Me, too."

Simon chuckled. "Guess we could have let Sandburg come up with something."

Jim smiled at that in spite of himself. Sandburg could certainly spin some beauties when needed. Obfuscations, he called them, and they’d come in handy more than once.

"Well, I'm out of here," Simon continued. "Got to get home and make sure Daryl actually goes to bed early enough to go to school tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yeah. He's taking some extra credit classes they've started having  
at school. Wants his transcript to look real spiffy for college." 

"Atta boy!" Jim could see the pride shining in Simon's dark eyes and he didn't blame him one bit. Daryl was a great kid and destined to be a great man. Just like his dad. Maybe it was the beer, but before he knew it, he'd said as much. Simon's eyes widened with surprise as much as pleasure and Jim found a yard and change of arm wrapped across his shoulders as Simon gave him a quick, manly hug.

"Thanks, Jim. That means something coming from you." He peered at Jim in the dim bar lighting. "You want a ride back to the station or just on home?"

"Nah, I'm going to finish this one and walk back. It's only a few blocks and it'll give me a chance to clear my head a little."

"All right, man, I'll see you later." Turning to leave, Simon paused and turned back. "Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope Sandburg recognizes his good fortune having you for a partner. I, for one, am damn glad you're on my team."

" Aw, get out of here. Go take care of your boy!" 

"I'm going. You just remember what I said." With a final salute with his stogie, Simon took his leave.

Jim shook his head and smiled a little to himself as he nursed the last of his beer.  
Good fortune? If Sandburg ever caught wind of some of the thoughts he'd been having lately, he most likely would recognize the exit signs and flee. A fluttery movement made him look up to see a couple of women, obviously together, both a little provocatively dressed and a trifle over made-up, but attractive all the same, trying to catch his eye. He considered. Maybe a little meaningless release would help him get over this bizarre thing with Sandburg.

{Yeah, right.}

He saluted the pair with the last of his beer, drained it, set the bottle carefully down on the battered tabletop and sauntered over.

The two women giggled and simpered girlishly at his approach. Encouraged, he set a hand companionably on the back of each of their chairs. He was leaning over to say something, hopefully clever, when the powerful chemical scent of their combined perfumes and make up hit full force. 

"Uh, not tonight, ladies. I have a headache," he deadpanned, then spun on his heel, though not without a little gratification from their crestfallen faces. He strode out the door, into the cool of the evening, letting the slight drizzle clear the cloying sweetness from his nostrils. Shaking his head as he walked briskly back toward the station, he wondered at himself. Not so very long ago, he would have taken those women up on what they offered in a heartbeat. Before the Senses (he tended to think of them with a capital S), had kicked back in, he would have found their perfume and enhanced coloring attractive, sensual even.

Now, Sandburg's more subtle scents came to mind.

Jim shuddered and hunched his shoulders against the rain. He just wasn't sure how to deal with these new feelings. Just what was the protocol for sudden buddy lust? "So, Sandburg, want to swap some spit?" "Say, little buddy, let's watch a game on the tube. And while we're at it, why don't you just crawl on up here in my lap?" Cripes! When had a healthy interest in women in general become an altogether unhealthy obsession with a particular, short, frizzy, bespectacled, _male_ anthropologist? 

He tried to remember when he had first noticed these new feelings. Right from the start, Sandburg had always had an unusual effect on him. The guy got right into his personal space in a way that he would never have tolerated from anyone else, not even Carolyn, but then he also got under his skin like no one else. Let anybody else at the station relentlessly tap a pencil, or click a pen open and shut over and over, or whistle tunelessly under their breath, and he could usually tune them out, dial it down until it didn’t bug him anymore. But Sandburg, that was a different story. He couldn’t tune him out to save his life. Or Sandburg’s, as it sometimes seemed to be coming down to. It was like the guy was mainlined into his nervous system.

And now, suddenly, every unguarded thought turned to devising various Get Sandburg in the Sack Scenarios.

How had this come about? He liked women. Always had. They smelled good. Well, usually, his slowly fading headache amended.

{Sandburg smells good.}

They smiled a lot.

{Sandburg smiles a lot.}

Hell, Sandburg could treat SAD patients with one of his megawatt grins. But he was a GUY! And Jim liked women. He liked their hair...

{Sandburg has...}

Has hair! No shit, Sherlock. Whose side was he on, anyway? He liked women. He fucking loved women! He loved their curves, their clothes, their softness...well, softness wasn't the right word. Women tended to be curvy, but most of them weren't really soft. All that hair and those breasts and hips tended to conceal an inner core of steel. Carolyn had certainly had that. Yep, that described him and Carolyn to a 'T'. His hard flint to her cold steel. They'd struck sparks all right, but never managed to sustain the fire.

Hang on a minute, maybe that was it! Him and Carolyn. Carolyn and he. They'd met at work. Been thrown together all the time. There was attraction, they got on, after a while, it had just seemed like getting married was the right thing to do. Maybe that's what was going on here. He was just substituting Blair for Carolyn. Yeah. Just a workplace crush. It would pass. It would...

{Are you actually listening to yourself here?}

Yeah, he wasn't buying it either. And, yeah, he liked women. It was just that, lately, he more admired them from afar, like beautiful works of art. Not like living, breathing people. Not someone warm to pull in close, wrap around, tuck up next to your heart, hang on to tight and never let go. 

Jim had reached the station, made his way through the parking garage and was now leaning his forehead against the cool metal of the truck. Good ol', faithful truck. At least he'd never gotten confused about his damn truck. After a moment of unaccustomed fumbling, he managed to fish his keys out of a pocket, work them into the lock and get the door open. Damn, his hands felt huge! Was he coming down with something? He'd just beaten a cold, while fending off solicitous offers of that dreadful echh-a-nasty something tea from Sandburg. The guy had some kind of frustrated Florence Nightingale impulse.

He made the drive home, pulled into his usual spot and sat looking up at the place. He'd just have to talk to Sandburg about this, this...Problem didn't seem like the right word. Thing. This thing. He'd just sit down and talk to Sandburg about this thing. That's what he was always saying, wasn't it? "Let's just sit down and talk about this." Well, he was in for an earful all right. Jim just hoped when he got it all said that Blair wouldn't run screaming into the night. Or worse yet, just give him an obliquely sympathetic glance and launch into one of his patented, culturally sensitive speeches while trying to let him down easy.

Outside the door to the loft, Jim hesitated. He swallowed a couple of times, briefly considered just turning around and going back out, then decided Sandburg was most likely asleep anyway, as tired as he’d been. He’d even _smelled_ tired earlier. Jim unlocked the door carefully, holding the ring so the keys wouldn't clank. If the kid was asleep, he wasn't going to wake him up by banging around.

{Liar. You're just hoping he's asleep so you won't have to face him.}

Entering silently, Jim carefully hung up his jacket and stripped off the gun holster as well. Noting the quiet dimness of the loft, he released his pent-up breath and sucked in a fresh one of relief. Relief to finally be home, relief that Blair was resting, relief that he wasn't going to have 'The Talk' right this very moment. Relief just seemed to keep coming in with every heady breath.

Jim realized he'd just been standing there, breathing deeply, absorbing, absorbing what? He ran a quick visual scan. Everything looked the same, from the woven wall hangings to the precarious stack of books piled on the edge of the bookshelf. An equally quick aural check turned up the tick of the water heater, the hum of the refrigerator, the steady lubdub of a sleeping Blair’s heartbeat. Meanwhile, the growing sense of relief he'd felt seemed to mutate and grow, swelling in his chest with each breath into something more like...well...joy!

Without quite knowing why, Jim found himself moving, drawn toward Blair's room like, like...a moth to a flame? The tide to the moon? A sailor to the sea? At the door, he paused. He was just checking on his friend, that was all. Right?

Right?

For once that sardonic inner voice was silent.

Peering into the dark room, Jim dialed up his sight a little. Blair's tousled hair was spread out across the pillow, one hand upflung by his head, fingers curled and relaxed in sleep. Damn. He looked so young when asleep. Young and innocent and trusting...Jim dialed up sight a little bit more, tracing the outlines under the tightly wrapped afghan. He followed the line of Blair's neck as it flowed into broad shoulders, the deep chest, his other arm lying close against his body, hand across his lower abdomen, grasping his...Jim gasped, the dialed up vision of Blair cradling his semi-erect cock sending shock waves of arousal throughout his entire system. With the deep intake of breath, joy and arousal swirled together, going up in a shower of sparkles.

"My god, he does do it in his sleep!" was his last conscious thought for some time. 


	3. Lofty Dreams

Blair was swimming through deep, dark, thankfully warm, molasses. Something was pulling at him, calling him to the surface, but it was so far away! As consciousness began to seep back into his body, his first thought was that a large friendly cat had somehow gotten into the loft. It made him think of the big stray tom Naomi and he had taken in once. Used to wake him up just like this every morning, shoving his big ol' raggedy head up under his chin, sniffing at his nose, butting and rubbing until he would surrender and rise to get the persistent feline some kitty chow. But then the cat had disappeared and they had moved and...this was no cat!

This sudden realization served to propel him toward the surface much faster and his eyes came open with a pop that, surprisingly, wasn't audible. Not to him anyway. To Jim, it might have been and Blair thought he might ask him sometime. Right after he asked him what the hell he thought he was doing because Blair hadn't any idea what it was called when a grown man began rubbing his head and neck and shoulders against his heretofore mostly unmolested roommate.

Oh, sure, there had always been the casual touches in the past, the idle pats, the buddy-buddy arm-across-the-shoulder kind of things, but never this. This was full body contact in the fullest sense. This was, Jim was, well, wallowing was the only word to describe it. On him! Rubbing his close-cropped head up under his chin, sliding cheekbone along cheekbone past Blair's very surprised eyes, wuffling up into his hair. With his own eyes closed to slits, an expression closely resembling ecstasy plastered across his usually rather stern-looking face, Jim rolled onto his back and wriggled. Wriggled! Wriggled with his head and shoulders up against Blair's ribs, hands tucked loosely against his own chest, bare legs hanging over the edge of Blair's narrow bed.

Blair closed his eyes. There was a surreal quality to the situation that even being jostled from side to side couldn't seem to shake. He tried to move, even just to pinch himself, but his leaden limbs refused to acknowledge his commands with more than a feeble twitching. However, this did get Jim's attention. He flipped over and pounced onto all fours, landing astride Blair in one fluid motion.

That was about when Blair became fully aware of Jim's complete and absolute nakedness. In point of fact, the only thing separating Blair from Jim was the thin, worn fabric of Blair’s t-shirt and boxers. Jim pressed against him, driving both air from his lungs and thought from his mind. Blair arched his head back and let loose a heartfelt groan as an altogether too pleasurable friction swelled his just-this-moment-acknowledged erection from half-mast to full salute.

Jim seemed oblivious to the hardness against his inner thigh. Those intense, pale blue eyes were tightly focused on something just at the edge of Blair's face. Blair tried to turn to look, his head at least seeming to respond properly, but even as he began the movement, he was flinching at the sight of Jim's hand coming up at mach speed.

The anticipated blow never landed, however. Instead, fingers curled into loose fists, Jim was batting at the dancing, swaying locks spiraled at either side of Blair's face. In disbelief, Blair stared up at Jim. As Blair stilled, Jim sat back and Blair bit back another moan as his own aching heaviness was answered by another hard length straining against the thin cotton separating them. Blair made a tiny, experimental headshake, immediately prompting another flurry of jabbing pats.

This was incredible. He was dreaming or Jim was playing some bizarre, elaborate, zone-induced prank. That must be it! This was some kind of weird new zone out. He could handle that. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, helloo! but Jim zeroed in on anything that moved and suddenly he was right there, microns of space between their lips and Jim was sniffing him, drinking in long deep breaths through flaring nostrils. Jim’s hands clamped down on Blair's shoulders even as those wide, mobile lips came down on his and any possibility of coherent speech or thought in the crazy universe he'd awakened in went away with a quiet whoosh.

Blair's arms finally responded to his brain's frantic summoning, only to flail weakly about, effectual as a moth's dazed flutterings. He settled for clutching Jim's shoulders, hanging on for dear life as a sudden torrent of emotions swept over and through him. Jim was kissing him! Kissing for all he was worth and that was, like, over the rainbow, pot-o-gold time. A pot! More like dump trucks full! Swimming pools! Lakes!

Blair's brain continued to pile up similes on autopilot, seeing as how the rest of his body was much too busy humming along to Jim's tune now. That clever mouth had jumped in, grabbed the keys, turned the engine over and taken everybody for a test drive, right on up to the point. Then it put the top down, tuned the radio to some smooth jazzy station, snaked an arm along the backrest and slid in close. Blair's fingers were clenched up tight with a strength unavailable moments ago and he dragged Jim down until he was lying flat against him, chest to chest, belly to raging hard-on, holding on like he'd never let go. At least not while Jim's tongue was still in his mouth.

That thought set the brain to yammering again (Hot silk! Warm velvet! New wild honey!). Involuntary reactions all seemed to be in working order, Blair noticed peripherally with the uncontrolled rocking of his hips against Jim's firm abdomen. Somebody somewhere was making little mewling noises high in their throat, but Blair didn't really try to pay too much attention. He was pretty sure he knew who it was, anyway.

Jim abruptly pulled back and sat up, once again straddling Blair's hips like it was a thing he did every day. Flung aside, Blair's arms settled back to the bed and Blair felt suddenly empty, bereft. Here it comes, he thought. He's come to his senses and he's going to freak! Blair frantically tried to re-engage his simile-stock-piling mind with his devastated mouth, which was still reeling from the full-out assault just perpetrated on it, bruised and swollen and looking for more. The best he could manage was a raspingly strained and embarrassingly breathy, "Jim?"

Jim just sat there looking at him with that same slit-eyed expression, a little smug now, like a cat that had gotten into the cream. Cocking his head just a little, he slowly leaned forward again, sliding his big warm hands up under Blair's shirt, rucking it up to his armpits. The hands lingered, teasing about the dark tufts of hair they discovered under there, then slid along his limp arms, easing them up over his head. The dual sensation of Jim's strong hands smoothing up his sensitive underarms even as his thick shaft shifted against Blair's through his boxers was unbearably erotic but Blair didn't have much time to dwell on it. Jim had begun kissing and nipping at his jaw, blazing a trail down his neck, along his throat, leaving hot and cold shivers in his wake.

Then the licking began.

Short, fast, little strokes lapping at his collarbone, dabbing into the hollow of his throat, then leaping the negligible barrier of wadded shirt to slick down his chest hair, swirling around first one point of interest, then the other, all while that promise-laden length lay next to his own (he could swear they were murmuring sweet nothings to each other), and then Blair was drawing in a great whooping breath and clutching at the air, the sheets, because Jim had finally, finally latched onto a nipple. Drawn it up into that hot, sweet carnival ride of a mouth, spun it right on through the fun house, over the rollercoaster, around and around the tilt-a-whirl, then back out in line because now it was the other side's turn.

Blair's back arched, thrusting his chest up to meet sweet torment. Jim was tugging at first one nipple and then the other, suckling with abandon, then following up with long, slow, laving licks. Blair could feel the groan gathering all the way from his curled-up toes, only to turn into short, soft, high-pitched grunts as the licks became shorter, harder, segueing into flickering taps. Blair came back down onto the mattress with a pronounced thump, his eyes somehow focusing for a moment, and he knew the sight of Jim Ellison fluttering his tongue back and forth across his chest was forever burned into his brain as the most obscenely beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Then it happened. His straining, dripping cock managed to work itself through the slit of his boxers to rub enthusiastically and unabashedly against the stranger come to call. Moist droplets of pre-cum eased the way as length rode against length and the smoking embers of Blair's brain began gibbering again, metaphors flying like meteors during the Perseids. (Silk! Satin! Steel! Charmeuse!) Must've gotten that last one out of a Victoria's Secret catalogue...Oh! Blair's cock bounced and jerked alongside Jim's and Blair had a momentary, disquieting image of a wolf cub pawing and nipping at a lazily indulgent jungle cat. But then Jim paused in the plundering of Blair's breast, one swollen nub still delicately trapped between strong white teeth, and a shudder shook his entire frame. Releasing the tender morsel, Jim raised his head to gaze into Blair's face, a dizzying barrage of emotions flashing across his own. Confusion and desire, tenderness and fear, loneliness and want all breaking like waves over features more dear to Blair than anyone, anything, in his entire life.

A frisson of something akin to panic sluiced down Blair's spine like cold water and for a moment, Jim seemed a stranger, alien even. Then the rock bottom deep love he felt for this man poured out of his heart, a flash flood of heat and desire and care washing over and through and around, filling his emptiness, returning strength to his limbs. Weakly, fumblingly, he lifted a hand and stroked the short pelt of Jim's hair. Jim's face cleared for a moment as they stared at each other, then a look of incredulous wonder stole over him. Jim's throat worked as he swallowed a couple of times, then the barest of whispers slipped out.

"Blair?"

Blair gave a tiny answering smile.

"Jim..." he rasped, meaning to welcome him back, but the reassurance he'd thought to offer was suddenly necessary for himself as a bright feral gleam leapt into Jim's eyes. Blair felt adrenaline pump uselessly into his system as Jim lunged forward and buried his face in Blair's neck. Fight or flight warred briefly within, as if he could do either, then his legs made a command decision of their own, wrapping around Jim's narrow waist as Jim sucked and licked and bit his way around Blair's neck as if he were searching for buried treasure.

Which he found.

Up behind Blair's left ear, in an area usually well enough protected by his hair, Jim found a sweet spot and suddenly Blair was plugged into a 220 outlet. With a helpless little yelp he flung up his arms to push Jim away, but the traitorous limbs had other plans. Instead they latched on to Jim and attempted to crush him closer, trying to get more of that devastating touch. Jim brought his hand to his mouth, licked his thumb, then brushed it roughly across Blair's still swollen nipple. Blair jerked like he'd been shot. Jim did it again, rhythmically stroking as he continued to ply that special neck spot with lavish attentions and Blair began to howl softly, an eerie, almost mournful sound that cut off abruptly when Jim closed his other hand over Blair's dick. Harsh gasping teamed with forceful hip thrusting as Jim shifted his grip, wrapping his large hand firmly around both their cocks, gathering pearlescent drops together and spreading them around as he pumped steadily faster.

Pinned down by Jim's greater weight, Blair was helpless. He felt like a tray of party appetizers, only Jim had arrived ravenously hungry and was scarfing down the whole buffet. The triple stimuli was sending him into overload and he tried to call out, make some verbal connection before reaching critical mass but he'd apparently lost all power of speech somewhere back at that sharp left turn into the Twilight Zone. The small grunting noises that he was still capable of had precious little dampening effect on the feral creature feasting on his throat. In fact, Jim seemed to be taking them as a form of encouragement, purring happily along in Blair's ear. With the slick slip and slide of cock against cock, tongue against throat, the rough sparking counterpoint of thumb across tit, Blair began to feel as if he were some new kind of instrument in an orchestra and he was being played by a master. He could feel the tympani roll of his orgasm rising in the background and he twisted in Jim's grip, grasping and gasping as his mind whirled frantically. What was happening here? This was Jim! At least it looked like Jim. But Jim would never...oh! Jim had never...ah!

He was losing it here and he didn't even know why or how, if Jim even knew what he was...ohmigod! Jim had suddenly released him, only to grab his wrists and pin them to the mattress. In one slithering, sinuous motion, he slipped down and captured Blair's now hysterically waving dick with his mouth. And teeth. And tongue. And throat. And Blair found his voice.

"Oh God! Oh, Jim! I hope you know what you're doing 'cause I can't stop you even if I wanted to which I don't oh please oh please don't stop now oh god Jim I love you and this is probably some weird zone out and you're gonna come to in a minute and kill me but ah!, oh!, I don't care, Jim, I love you please oh please don't stop now but ahg! maybe you better 'cause I'm gonna come I'm gonna come right in your mouth if you don't stop oh please! don't! stop!" and this last was a wail because, far from stopping, Jim released his wrists, grabbed his ass with both hands and proceeded to attempt to swallow Blair whole starting with his dick.

Prayers, poems, promises, the final score of the last game of the 1961 World Series, all flashed through Blair's mind as the freight train of his climax pounded through him. He came up off the bed, curling around Jim's head and shoulders as his heart and brains and lungs all followed each other down the long deep tunnel in its wake, then he slowly slid bonelessly back down. Completely limp, he lolled there, moving only as perhaps underwater grasses might in a current as Jim gradually released him, letting him slide carefully out of his mouth. He was done, finished, cooked. Spent, used up, exhausted. Gone, smoked, completely...Large hands touching him, turning him, arranging him...ah, Jim wasn't done yet. Okay, buddy, Jim ol' pal. You go for it. I'll just wait right here...

Blair rested his cheek against the cool sheets, concernless, thoughtless, oh, hey, was that his brain limping slowly back up the tracks? The hands were back, lifting his hair away from the back of his neck, pushing it over to the side. Warm lips came down next and a teeny tiny tremor ran through him as strong teeth gripped him gently there. Got a little juice left yet, he thought dazedly, then the hands were distracting him again. They rubbed smoothly down his back until they reached the barrier of his boxers. Hesitating almost imperceptibly, nimble fingers slid under the waistband and shoved the frustrating fabric over the swell of his butt, one hand sliding thoughtfully 'round to protect his now relaxed cock. Mmmm, nice. He offered up a small wiggle of contentment. One of those clever hands was massaging his ass, then smooth, heated skin pressed down all along his back and something even hotter and smoother and harder pressed against his rear.

An involuntary buck pushed him back against the invader just about the time his brain climbed back in the saddle. Jim was going to fuck him! Oh god! He wasn't ready! He didn't want...but he did want, just not like this! He wanted more, he wanted words, he wanted love...he wanted lube! Terror spiked his system and Jim froze above him for a moment. Then there were little crooning noises in his ear and soft wet kisses raining along the side of his face and he slowly realized that Jim was sliding his length carefully along the valley of his buttocks, not making any attempt to penetrate. Jim pulled him over on his side so he wasn't completely trapped beneath him, continuously kissing his face and neck. One hand still cradled his cock and was slowly coaxing it back to erectness as Jim made small, careful thrusting movements against his rear. Jim slipped his other hand around to tweak a nipple as he gnawed tenderly at the back of Blair's neck. Unbelievably soon after that earthshaker, Blair felt himself growing hard again, pressing minutely forward into Jim's fist, then back against his hardness. He was surrounded by Jim, enveloped in Jim, breathing Jim, who smelled faintly of smoke and beer and rain. Their rhythm built slowly. Blair's cock, still moist from its previous engagement, slid wetly in Jim's grasp, Jim huffing softly into Blair's neck as he pressed himself over and over along his back.

They were reaching their crescendo, a long, slow, burning climb, when Jim sort of seized up, going intensely rigid against Blair's back as hot fluid jetted between them. The sudden extra tightness of Jim's grip pushed Blair over as well and he came again, less abundantly christening his own belly and Jim's fist. Slowly, a muscle at a time, Jim relaxed, his head dropping onto Blair's shoulder, his weight noticeably increasing until Blair would have squirmed some if he'd had the energy, but there was no need. After a moment of complete stillness, Jim rolled back, pulling Blair with him until they were neatly tucked together, side by side, Blair's curls crushed into the curve of Jim's neck. Consciousness was seeping swiftly into the background but Blair still felt the several sleepy kisses dropped onto his crown, the sweet circle of Jim's arms around him, before slipping once more into blackness.


	4. Round Two

Sometime later in the night, Blair was once again roused from the depths of sleep, this time by the dark rustling of hands running over his body. At first, just one hand smoothed along his side, down his flank, pausing to test the fit of cheek to palm, gliding on down to the sensitive smoothness back of his knee. Then its partner joined in, working together to remove the scrunched up mess of his shorts, slipping them gently down past his feet, which were then, in turn, thoroughly investigated. 

With firm touches so as not to tickle, every tiny bone, tendon and muscle was pressed and rubbed and manipulated, until Blair was a Sandburg-shaped puddle on the bed. Warm breath ghosted over his toes and Blair felt the gooseflesh ripple all the way up to his neck. The hands followed slowly, closely tailed by that same warm breath, fingers fanning out, dipping into his navel, searching out every hidden nook and cranny, exploring intently all the way to his face. There they traveled lightly over his lips and eyes, tracing along his brows and down around the whorls of his ears like a blind man reading a topographical map.

All during this silent, tactile exploration of his body, Blair had lain quietly, still sleepily sated from earlier exertions. But as warm breath continued to chuff softly over him, as a cheekbone was rubbed tenderly against the top of his head, he found the ability to move had returned to him in some measure and he raised his arms, wrapped them around the large frame hovering over his and tugged hard. 

With a surprised sounding woof, the larger man above him was pulled down close and Blair began to repay earlier attentions. With interest. Oh boy, was he interested. Capturing the other's lips with his own, he pressed up, holding that big, sleek head still with surprising strength, sliding past smooth-edged teeth (for a fleeting second, he'd almost expected sharp-tipped fangs), dueling tongue to tongue with increasing passion. 

The other's breath became gratifyingly labored even as his own gathered steam. A powerful current of wild lust coursed through him and he surged up, forcing the bigger man back and over until Blair was lying fully over him, holding one thick wrist against the mattress with either hand. Blair more than half-expected at least a token resistance from the man he had just pounced on, Jim being the quintessential alpha male that he was, but no, he just rolled back and took it, returning kiss for smoldering kiss, but not struggling, not trying to regain control. 

Blair looked down through the dim light into heavy-lidded, widely dilated blue eyes and searched for some sign of recognition, a flicker of unease, of need, something, anything, but there was none of that. Just that same enigmatic, piercing gaze, an indefinably smug quirk to the lips. Still, Blair had the sense of a playfully coiled energy, a cat letting you rub its belly, then wrapping itself around your hand, claws and all...Blair realized his revived erection was rubbing with great determination just below Jim's navel even as Jim's legs came up and locked around him, strong thighs trapping him and increasing the pressure of his thrusts against the solid, satiny wall of Jim's belly. Blair could have screamed with the raw, primal pleasure of it, would have if Jim hadn't been sucking so ardently on his tongue.

Oh, god, oh god! Who knew Jim could kiss like that? Jim was driving him insane with just his mouth, darting in and out, exploring all the peaks and valleys of his teeth, slipping wetly over the edge into the corners, diving back in and lewdly wrapping around his tongue again. Blair was going to come just from being kissed! He was being kissed alive! 

Some lone synapse in a relatively uncharted area of his brain wondered if Jim was using his Sentinel senses to call forth such a reaction and the thought arrowed straight to his cock. Not yet! Slamming down hard against Jim's hipbone, he held very still, turning his face into Jim's warm neck to escape that succubus mouth. A shiver ran down his back. Somehow he knew that once he came (again!) it would all be over, he would slide right back down into oblivion and then, who knew when he might resurface, or in what universe? There were a couple of things he wanted to do first, while he was still in the Universe of Naked Jim in Naked Blair's Bed. 

He burrowed a little further, nuzzling Jim's neck and lipping the supple flesh there. A faint tremor ran through Jim and he turned his head, offering freer access to his throat.

"Mmmm, like this, do you, Jim?" Blair murmured softly. He could feel the throbbing pulse in the big vein against his mouth and he licked it. His reward was a soft gasp and another little tremor. A small seed of an idea began to flower and he grinned into Jim's neck until his teeth were bared right up against the smooth flesh there. He sucked in a delicate fold of skin and worried it gently. He could feel Jim’s hands clenching and unclenching where he held them against the bed.

"Ah, Jim," he breathed, "I want to make this so good for you. I want to watch you come so hard you see stars. Listen to me, Jim. Listen to my voice." Already thick with desire, he dropped the register a little. "I'm going to make you come so hard _I_ see stars," he mouthed down the side of that long elegant throat, letting his curls trail tantalizingly on either side. When he reached the smooth, naked plain of Jim's chest, he scooted down and back, squirming against Jim's leg lock until their pelvises were even. The delicious sensation of Jim's sleek, hard length against his own nearly finished him right there, but somehow he managed to hang on, biting his lip near to bleeding and concentrating on the pain. Even so, he knew he couldn't hold out for long. Resting against the cradle of Jim's hips, he took a long deep breath and forced himself to concentrate on his goal. Leaning forward, he put his lips next to one taut nipple and whispered, "I'm going to suck these beautiful little titties now, Jim." 

Whoa! That reaped him an involuntary jerk and a grunt. Blair felt his lips widening into a smile again even as his tongue snaked past his teeth. He gave the crinkled nub a preliminary swipe and Jim went rigid, his breast straining up toward Blair's mouth. A delirious rush of power swept over Blair and he flicked his tongue out like a lash just to feel Jim buck and shudder under him. He traced the areola, dancing teasingly around and around it until a low growl vibrated up to him.

"Easy, man, just making sure I've got your attention. Ready or not..." and he captured his target. As soon as he had the full flavor of Jim in his mouth, Blair knew he had badly miscalculated. Doing stuff to Jim was an even bigger turn on than having stuff done to him by Jim and that was going some! 

He suckled the hard point between his lips and felt the jolt like it was directly linked to himself. They moaned in harmony and Blair fell to with abandon, licking, sucking, biting until Jim began to thrash, slinging his head wildly back and forth and running his heels up and down the backs of Blair's legs. When Jim's writhings almost freed his wrists from Blair's grip, Blair, nearly snarling, wrenched himself from between Jim's legs and straddled his thighs. Bearing down hard on the wrists, he dragged Jim's arms down to his sides, trapping them with his knees. He knew that if Jim got his hands into the act, the fat lady would be singing and he wasn't quite ready for that. His own hands thus freed from guard duty, he loosed them to pillage where they would and returned to the tasty morsels to which he was rapidly becoming addicted.

As he lapped happily at one reddened nip, he ran a hand firmly up and around Jim's throat, stroking his thumb almost roughly along his jawbone. The other hand he let skitter over to the mate of the tit he teased, then down over the flat belly to the thin, sensitive skin over the hipbone. Jim was moaning steadily now, a threnody of want that rose and fell with each new movement on Blair's part. Between mouthfuls Blair would mutter little phrases, short bursts of praise and reassurance. Giddy with power and lust, he told Jim his heart. With soft murmurs, he told him how beautiful he was, how strong and good and sexy and hot and sooo tasty and...

He knew it was too good to last when Jim began to undulate beneath him and he was so hot, he was losing control, he was going to come but oh, not yet, not yet, not yet! 

He hung on the knife-edge, literally digging his toes into the mattress to do so. Carefully he slipped his hand between them and gathered their swollen shafts together. The feel of Jim’s hard length against his palm skewed his precarious balance and he tightened his grip until they were both very still, their harsh breathing the only sound.

“Okay, Jim, listen to me.” Blair took a couple of calming breaths. “I want you to dial up touch."

A muffled sound of dissent. 

"No, Jim, it's all right. I won't let you zone. I want you to dial it up. Dial this up." He gave their twinned cocks a slow pump. "Dial it up for me, man. Let me see you. I want to watch you. I want to see you come, Jim. Come for me, Jim. This is me touching you, me on you. Me getting you off. Dial it up and let it happen, man. Come for me!" 

All during this, Blair was working their cocks, loosely at first, gathering sweat and pre-cum as he went, then tighter, faster, feeling his own balls drawing up even as Jim's did against them. He braced his free hand against Jim's chest, holding Jim down and supporting himself at the same time as he leaned into his work. Jim was bucking into his fist, his head thrown back, heels and shoulders pressing hard into the bed as his hips thrust powerfully upwards. Blair clamped down tight with his thighs and hung on as he rode Jim's shuddering, shaking frame. Ride 'em, cowboy! he thought and tweaked the nipple under his hand. 

That did it.

Jim moaned and came in long, hard spurts. The hot liquid covering his hand joined with the pulsing of Jim's cock next to his and Blair whooped aloud as he came, collapsing slowly over onto Jim’s broad chest. Vision blurring, he managed to roll off to the side and sling his arm back over Jim before completely passing out.

"Love you, Jim," he mumbled into a shoulder as he was gathered up and held. "Love you soo much...ooh, stars!" 

Gentle snoring was the only sound for some time after that.


	5. After Care

Ever since the Senses had come back online, mornings had tended to be something of a crapshoot for Jim. The scent of brewing coffee three floors away might jolt him awake like a slap to the side of the head. The hesitantly warbled notes of some sleepy bird's morning song could hurl him into wakefulness with all the gentle subtlety of a jackhammer. His tactile sense, apparently bored with the lack of stimulation as he slept, might ratchet itself up during the night until he woke to sheets that seemed to have become a heavy grade of sandpaper. Or, even more entertaining, he'd wake up with a two by four where his dick used to be and just the act of trying to make it to the bathroom could set him off, leaving him with sheets to wash, again, and he wouldn't even have enjoyed it.

Then came Sandburg. Sandburg with his wild hair and wild clothes and wild talk. Ever since Sandburg, he hadn't had too much of that kind of trouble. Just knowing what was really going on with his senses had helped get things back in control. That and the knowledge that he wasn't on a one-way trip to a nice quiet room somewhere, the kind with padded walls and special hours for visitors. Just thinking about how afraid he had been could make him break out in a sweat. So he didn't, much. He and Sandburg had stumbled across each other and things were mostly all right. If he wanted to be honest, things were mostly a whole lot better. The morning hard-on could still drive nails, but hey, that wasn't so bad. A guy liked to know the equipment was still in good working order, even if he hadn't been using it as much as he might have wished.

Nowadays, mornings were mostly more or less normal. And sometimes, especially if he'd drifted off with the reassuring blip of Sandburg's heartbeat in the background, they could be like this. This was one of those rare times when he woke up slowly, gradually, letting awareness wash over him a little at a time, like the tide coming in on the beach, wetting the sand a little higher with each lap. One of those times rarer still when he didn't hurt anywhere particularly, didn't have to leap up in a moment and get himself off to work, could actually sleep in if he so desired and catch up on some much needed sack time.

The next easy wave broke over him, lifting him a little higher into awareness. His thoughts floated in that space between asleep and awake, first drifting with the current, then diving and swooping like a flock of birds. 

The few times he had awakened in bed with someone since The Senses had been a lot like this. Physical contact had always been an anchor for him. Sandburg had remarked on that more than once, wondering aloud how someone so closed off emotionally could be such a toucher. He'd just grunted at that. It just seemed too much to try and explain that just because a guy was terrified of making emotional contact didn't keep him from wanting it, sometimes so badly it was actually physical pain. So he touched people. Especially Sandburg. And usually that was enough. Enough to keep him grounded, to keep him from wanting more than he could have. Because he'd tried the marriage route. Major dead end there. Might have helped if Carolyn and he had ever truly figured out what they wanted from each other, from the marriage itself.

It had been so good at first, so nice waking up with someone, the same someone every day, the feel of skin on skin, a little early morning sex as often as not. He wasn't sure when that had started to fall apart. Probably about the time Carolyn started to realize that she was nearly as alone as before they'd gotten married, maybe even more so. 

He'd tried, he really had. It was just so hard to let anyone, even the woman he had married, get close, get inside. That protective coating he had been layering on for years didn't just split open and peel off because somebody said, "I do." He would open up a little, enough to try and reach out, maybe let a ray of light inside, but the other person always either wanted too much too soon, or else got tired of little peeks, too impatient to wait around for the big picture to reveal itself. Not Sandburg, though. Nothing seemed to discourage the kid, at least not for long. He just kept in there, chipping away a little more of his walls every day. Maybe it was a discipline he had learned on archaeological digs or something.

Another wave and he almost turned over, almost dove back into sleep but he suddenly noticed two things. One, he really had to piss and, two, his arm was asleep. Ah well, nothing perfect lasted forever. The day had to start sometime. Now, if he could just get Sandburg off his arm, he could probably get some feeling back in it about the time he reached the bathroom....

All higher brain function came to a screeching, smoking halt, thoughts piling up like cars in a bad highway accident. For just that moment, Jim truly knew what the deer in the headlights was feeling. It was a little like a zone-out, but not quite as total. After a moment the lungs remembered to breathe again and the ability to think came trickling back, oddly enough through his ears. He remained perfectly still and tried to assess the situation.

First, he seemed to be wedged into Sandburg's bed. With Sandburg. With a very warm, solid Sandburg draped over him like a heavy blanket. Second, a careful glance down confirming it, they were both buck naked. Well, he was buck, Sandburg sort of had a t-shirt on. Third, he really had to piss and fourth, the final insult, Sandburg was drooling on his shoulder. Jim started to just push him off, but the fact that this was Sandburg's bed had to have some sort of significance. He couldn't quite recall what had transpired last night and there was the slightest possibility that he had been too snockered to make it up the stairs and had somehow crawled in with Sandburg. That didn't explain their combined state of undress, but first things first and first things were going to get really unpleasant if he didn't get to the bathroom and soon.

Reaching slowly around with his free arm, Jim cradled Blair's head, lifting it just enough to slide his arm out from under. Ignoring the feel of soft curls against his palm, he carefully let them come to rest against the pillow and gingerly slipped off the bed. Blair gave a sleepy snort and snuffle, burrowing face down into the pillow. Jim pulled the sheet up over the nude form of his partner, then paused. He was having, and losing, an ethical argument with himself that it was rude to peek, even if they had just been sleeping naked in each other's arms, when his bladder went from yellow to full red alert and he had to make tracks.

After setting what had to be the landspeed record for quietest bathroom dash, Jim made his morning porcelain christening with no time to spare. One of the perks of having a male roomie was that the toilet seat was usually in the up and ready position. He didn't want to think about if it hadn't been. His arm still tingling furiously with pins and needles, Jim tried to gather his scattered thoughts as he relieved himself of last night's beer. It had just been four, hadn't it? He was pretty sure of that. Everything seemed pretty clear right up until getting home. He remembered unlocking the door, then....A violent shiver shuddered its way down his spine, almost making him miss. The stream remained constant, however, and Jim was beginning to be impressed at his own capacity. Finally though, even the mightiest of rivers must run dry and he drew a sigh of relief as he gave the ol' whanger the obligatory shake.

Turning to the sink, he washed his face and hands, splashing cold water liberally. Reaching for the towel, he drew a deep breath as he straightened and was suddenly reeling, his head swimming under an abrupt barrage of odors. 

He smelled of sex! 

He reeked, he *stank* of sex! 

With a bracing hold on the sink, he took another careful sniff. It was as if the cold water had startled his nose awake and alarm bells were going off all over his mind as olfactory tags lined up. 

That was not just himself he was smelling. 

His first split second hypothesis crumbled as fast as it was formed. No, he hadn't gone with those two women after all, had a good time, then gotten rip roaring smashed and stumbled home to crash in the first available bed. There was nothing remotely feminine about this smell. He forced himself to look down. 

He was covered in spunk. 

And some of it 

{a lot!}

wasn't even his! He closed his eyes and hung on to the sink. Okay, it couldn't be as bad as he thought. 

{Couldn't it?} 

Oh, God. Think. Think! Try and remember what happened. He had come through the door last night and then, and then... he moaned and put a hand up to his head and then the other to his rapidly swelling groin. Flashes of memory, shutterspeed glimpses of heat and pleasure flickered in his mind, sense memories ghosting through nerve endings. With a sudden gasp, Jim touched his nipples. They were definitely tender, a bit redder than normal, and with his Sentinel vision he could make out the faintest of teeth marks. He bent his head down as close as he could and sniffed again. Blair!

His head came up with a snap and with narrowed eyes he glared at his own reflection in the mirror. The horrific thought that he'd come home in a drunken stupor and somehow, someway...forced...himself on Blair blew apart in the face of the proof he bore right there on his own body. Unless nipple biting was a unique form of Sandburgian self defense... Another shudder swept over Jim at the mental image that evoked. Relief at the debunking of his original scenario rapidly turned to outrage at the thought of someone, anyone, taking advantage of him while he was apparently blitzed out of his mind. How dare that little...

Jim came out of the bathroom, jaw clenched, hands opening and closing into fists as he headed for Blair's room like a thunderstorm of righteous anger. Not stopping to consider the incongruity of confronting his supposed abuser while naked and sporting a significant erection, he swooped down on the still quiet form on the bed and grabbed a bared bicep with the intent to shake the little bastard awake and then some answers out of him. Instead, he let go with a startled yelp and stared at his palm, fully expecting to see blisters forming there. What the hell...

Jim stared down at his sleeping partner and noted the flushed features, the heat radiating off the compact frame. Gingerly, he laid the back of his fingers against a stubbled cheek. Jesus. Blair was burning up with fever. Jim remembered how warm he had felt when he had gotten out of bed just a few minutes ago. Perhaps he hadn't noticed how very warm because he acclimated to the gradual change during the night, but surely it must have risen even more in the short time he had been in the bathroom. Surely he would have noticed this. Blair felt like a furnace!

Jim stumbled back a step, his anger draining swiftly away and concern swarming in to take its place. He paced a few tight steps back and forth beside the bed, hands dry scrubbing over his face as he thought. Okay, Ellison, you've had medic training. What's the procedure? Assess conditions. Okay. The kid has a high fever. How high? He seemed to remember that 103 degrees was the red line. Jim turned back to the bed and gently turned Blair from mostly face-down on his side to mostly face-up. Blair's eyes fluttered.

"Jim?"

"I'm here, Sandburg."

"’A’s'good...."

Those blue blue eyes closed. Jim felt Blair's forehead. Now that he was more prepared, it didn't seem quite so scarily hot. If the fever wasn't dangerously high, it would probably be better to treat it at home than to bundle Blair off to the emergency room. He could still feel the panicked thud of his own heart against his ribs at that first searing touch. He rubbed his fingers together. He didn't really trust his own Sentinelized ability to diagnose temperature right now, with his emotions flaring so close to the surface. He’d have to find the thermometer.

He knew they had a thermometer because Blair had insisted on taking his temp when he had been sick last week. He had resisted, of course, but the kid had been so earnestly persistent, saying that it would make him feel better just to know and then throwing in the underhanded tactic of pleading eyes and widespread hands, that he had folded at last, letting Blair slip the tiny wand between his lips and obediently holding it under his tongue. He would probably rather submit to arcane forms of torture than admit it, but it had been kind of nice to be fussed over. And, it turned out, he had been running a slight fever, which was fairly unusual for him. It took a tough ass bug to do that to him, but Blair might be a different story. He had a sort of feverish personality, maybe he tended to run fevers more easily when he got sick. How should he know? 

{Shouldn't you?}

Oh, this he needed! He turned to stomp back to the bathroom where he was reasonably sure the thermometer was stored and tripped over a trail of clothing that he had somehow missed on his first pass through. What a mess. The kid was just going to have to start picking up after himself! This was ridiculous, as well as hazardous....that line of thought trailed away as the jeans he was automatically scooping up off the floor turned out to be his own. 

{You were saying?} 

He stared at the abused garments. They had been laying in a line leading from the doorway, each separate article appearing to have been removed by someone in a big hurry, with a limited grasp of the mechanics of disrobing. The flannel shirt had buttons missing, the t-shirt was badly misshapen with the neck stretched and pulled abominably, the jeans even had a couple of belt loops torn loose. His underwear he found draped over the foot of Blair's bed and, since they seemed no worse for wear, he put them on. Wadding the rest into a ball, he carried it into the bathroom and tossed them in the hamper. He couldn't remember taking his clothes off, yet it looked more like they had been practically torn from his body. Why couldn't he remember? After a moment, he realized he was staring into the clothes hamper as if willing answers from the damaged clothing. With a shake, he turned back to his current mission, finding the thermometer.

Rummaging quickly through the medicine cabinet, he located the first aid kit. He breathed a small sigh of relief as his fingers closed around the slender shape of the thermometer. It was one of the newfangled electronic kind, so he didn't have to shake it down. He slipped a sanitary sheath over the end and clicked it on as he turned back to Blair's room. Once there, he again took Blair by the shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

"Sandburg." Another little shake. "Blair!"

" J-jim?"

"Yeah, Sandburg. Open your mouth."

"Jim?"

" Yeah, buddy, it's me. I'm trying..."

" S'hot."

"I know. You have a fever. I'm trying to take your temperature. Now open up."

"Oh. Tha's nice...."

Damn. He was out again. Like a light. Brow furrowed, Jim studied the situation and finally hit on a plan. Sitting down at the head of the bed, he slid a careful arm behind Blair's shoulders and gathered his upper body into his lap. Cradling his head against his shoulder, Jim slid the end of the thermometer between Blair's teeth, carefully positioning it under his tongue, then held it in place, trying very hard not to notice how ridiculously good this awkward position was feeling. If not for the disconcerting heat radiating off of Blair's body, they could have just been having a nice cuddle.

The feel of silky curls against his neck was revelatory. It should have tickled. It should have been annoying. Instead, it was sensual, comforting, in a way the limp loll of Blair's head against his shoulder was not. Blair had barely made a murmur as Jim had manhandled him into his lap and he still felt extremely hot. The thermometer beeped. Jim slipped it free of Blair's mouth and read it, his own lips twisted in a wry grimace. 102.5. Right on the edge. Now the thing to do was get it down.

Jim slowly slid out from under Blair, propping him up against the pillows. At least he could make it look like he was comfortable. He pulled the sheet higher over him, studiously avoiding the thought of how good the warm solid weight of Blair's body had felt, then headed back to the medicine cabinet for aspirin. He wasn't sure he could get Blair awake enough to swallow whole pills, so he went into the kitchen and, using the base of a heavy mug, ground the pills into dust. This he dumped into the mug, adding enough water to get a good suspension. He grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, moistened a cloth from the tap and carried the lot back into Blair's room.

Looking down once again at Blair's sleeping form, Jim decided that the same maneuver that had worked for the thermometer would work for getting aspirin into him. But first, he set his tiny arsenal on the nightstand and retrieved a large bath sheet from the linen closet. Giving the aspirin suspension a good stir, Jim sat on the bed, then once again gently lifted Blair into his lap, supporting his head against his shoulder. He spread the bath sheet over Blair's upper body, then, holding the mug close to Blair's mouth, he began to whisper in his ear, saying his name over and over. Sharply, sing-song, high, then low. He broke it into two, then three syllables. Finally, on about the ninth repetition, Blair stirred.

"Mmmm"

"Blair."

"G'way."

"Blair!"

"Wha'?!"

"I want you to drink this."

"Wha' is't?"

"Something to make you feel better."

"What?"

"Just drink it, Sandburg!"

Jim put the mug to Blair's lips and tipped in about half of its contents. As he suspected, Blair began to splutter, so he clapped his other hand expediently over Blair’s mouth, forcing him to swallow or choke. When he was reasonably sure that most of it had gone down, he let go.

"Hey!" Blair exclaimed, shocked to alertness, but Jim just took that opportunity to dump in the rest.

The towel had definitely been a good idea, he congratulated himself, but most of the aspirin seemed to have found its way inside of Sandburg. A speechless Sandburg who was staring up at him with such an expression of shock that Jim almost burst out laughing. As it was, a smile kept quirking about the corners of his mouth, despite his best efforts to quell it. Setting down the mug, he took the dampened cloth and wiped away traces of the aspirin solution from Blair's chin. Blair continued to stare up at him, a wary look slowly replacing the dazed expression.

"Jim, are you feeling all right?"

"Just dandy, Sandburg."

"Mmm-hmm. Okay. Then would you mind telling me what was in that vile concoction you just forced down my throat?"

"Just aspirin, Sandburg. You have a high fever and I'm trying to bring it down."

"Oh." The wary expression eased a fraction. "That would explain why I feel so crappy."

"Yep."

Blair continued to stare up into Jim's face for a long moment, as if he were searching for something, then it seemed as if his eyelashes were growing heavy. He blinked slowly a couple of times, the lids sliding closed and only reluctantly opening again. Jim watched him swallow, his mouth twisting at the bitter residual taste of the aspirin and Jim was reaching for the one of the bottles of water before he even thought about it. He popped open the squeeze top with one hand.

"Here, drink this."

"No!"

And the little squirt was actually struggling to get away! Fortunately, he had little leverage and Jim still had a firm grip around his chest.

"Blair! Blair! It's just water. Plain, cold, bottled water."

Blair slowly settled back against him.

"Water?"

"Plain, clear, unadulterated water."

"Well, okay then." And he leaned his head back, closed his eyes and opened his mouth. 

For some reason, this small display of trust touched Jim deeply as he carefully poured some of the water into Blair's waiting mouth. Blair swallowed, then opened his mouth for more. Jim obliged. Watching Blair's full lips press together and his throat work as he downed several more mouthfuls, it occurred to Jim that having one's roommate's bare back pressed against one's groin was not the best way to keep one's growing arousal a secret. Especially when said roommate turned his head and practically nuzzled against one’s bare chest. And even more so when aforementioned roomie rubbed a stubbled cheek against a defenseless nipple. Jim almost yelped aloud at the direct, if innocent, stimulation.

"Sleepy," Blair murmured into Jim's sternum.

"So sleep," Jim replied a little gruffly, hoping to mask the huskiness he couldn't entirely control.

" 'Kay."

And almost immediately, Blair's eyes, already half-closed, slid shut and stayed that way. His mouth opened slightly as he slowly relaxed back into sleep and he snuggled down against Jim's chest. Almost involuntarily, Jim's arms tightened into a hug and several long quiet moments went by as Jim simply held Blair close against him, silently willing the fever away. 

Monitoring both heartbeat and respiration closely, reassured by the steadiness of each, Jim waited until Blair was once again deeply asleep before attempting to disengage. In the process, however, one palm managed to find its way along the narrow line of hair that led down from the thicker thatch on Blair's chest, then skate out over the fine-grained skin of his belly. Enthralled by the exquisite sensation, Jim allowed his hand to circle there for a moment, marking the contrast between furry and smooth, soft skin and hard muscle. Eyes closed, he flirted with a zone-out as his hand drifted back and forth across territory he had never truly even hoped to explore, yet that felt oddly familiar.

Disturbing flashes of memory rocked him suddenly and he had a vivid sense memory of mapping that same territory with lips and tongue. He shook his head a little and his hand took advantage of his brief distraction to dip past the sheet loosely draping Blair's hips. Fortunately, the thumb was still on his side and he hooked it on Blair's belly button, effectively halting the rogue hand's southerly foray.

Unfortunately, the thumb was apparently a double agent and covertly began to engage in navel reconnaissance. With the rest of the fingers fanned across Blair's lower belly for support, it pushed against the minute walls, rubbed against the harder nub of scar tissue in the center, nudging in and out in an obscene parody of intercourse, all the while sending subversive, top secret information back along seared nerve endings to Jim's eye-popped brain. For a moment, he was so filled with conflicting impulses, he thought he must either fly apart or implode.

The urge to just roll over on top of Blair and dive in was tackled by common decency, which took a cheap shot to the kidneys from the urge to hurl Blair from him and run screaming, which was in turn tripped up by the still-lurking urge to pummel the little creep for apparently taking advantage of him last night. By dint of great effort, aided by long years of practice, Jim managed to tamp everything down into one writhing but manageable ball, drag himself from beneath Blair and off the bed and only break out in a light sweat in the process. 

He stood, stretched his cramped back, turned to pull the sheet up over his friend, and felt reality shift and shatter around him for the second or third time that day. He was losing track already. Not only was Blair also liberally decorated with semen, he was also adorned with love bites from stem to stern. Most of them were already fading, but the one high on his neck was deep enough to last for days and the teeth marks on his chest were visible even without Sentinel abilities.

Jim stared in shock and disbelief at the debauched form of his partner. He...Blair...How...What? Most of his brain had become one huge question mark. One small area was gibbering and pointing in fear and denial while a darker corner was leering and peering and trying to get him to edge closer for a better look. Jim tilted his head. Blair did look kind of, well, yummy, lying there like that, face and body defenseless in sleep, open and relaxed. He could touch him anywhere he wanted and if he were careful, Blair probably wouldn't even wake up. Jim stumbled back abruptly from the bed, one hand pressed over his mouth. What was he doing? What was happening to him? And since when did he even think the word 'yummy'?

Beating a tactical retreat into the kitchen, Jim put both hands flat against a countertop and leaned heavily on it, breath coming in deep gasps. Obviously something had happened last night, something that, on some level at least, must have been pretty good for the both of them. But he couldn't remember! And now Blair lay in the grip of a virus, so ill he couldn't stay awake long enough for Jim to ask him, even if he could work up the nerve. Things were at a fine pass. What was he going to do? Like a sign from heaven, the answer came, not in the form of a lightning strike, but more like thunder. Jim's stomach growled. Loudly. Suddenly, breakfast seemed like a very good idea. When in doubt, eat.


	6. Where's the Fire?

Yanking open the refrigerator, Jim perused the contents with a critical eye. Eggs, cheese, milk, ah! There in the back was the two-day old carton of Chinese take-out. Really only a day and a half. Even as he lifted out his prize, he was reaching in the silverware drawer for a fork. He briefly considered nuking the mess, but that would involve dishes and probably make it soggy besides. Standing over the sink, he forked out a nice chunk of congealed beef and broccoli stir-fry and savored the cold crunchiness. He downed the rest quickly, chasing it with the rest of the half empty carton of orange juice, then chucked both cardboard receptacles. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he paused, stricken. Sandburg would be needing plenty of fluids and Jim had just polished off the juice. He knew milk didn’t mix with a fever. Beer probably didn’t either. He checked the fridge again and drew a sigh of relief at the confirmation of another quart of juice behind the milk. He closed the door gently and leaned against the quietly humming appliance for a moment, trying to collect thoughts that were scattered like clouds on a windy day. 

Having some solid food in his stomach was helping. For a while there, he had begun to feel like a weather vane in a hurricane, his emotions spinning with every change in the wind. Maybe a shower and some fresh clothes would help even more. With that thought, Jim turned back toward the hallway. He would just peek in on Blair, then snag a towel and grab a shower. 

Even as he began to turn, though, he felt a warning prickle, so he was at least semi-prepared for the sight that met his eyes. Nothing, though, prepared him for the lurch his heart made at the sight of a wide-eyed, half-naked Blair, hair a wild nimbus of reflected light, standing with one hand clutching either side of the doorway. The ratty t-shirt Blair wore did more to accentuate his nakedness than to cover it, its hem creating a frame for his semi-erect cock, bobbing in its nest of dark curls. Blair was staring wildly about, as if searching for something, when he caught sight of Jim -- and launched right at him!

For a tiny fraction of a second, Jim thought Blair was actually attacking him. But as Blair threw himself into his arms, Jim instinctively caught him and felt a moment of disbelief as Blair wrapped arms and legs both tightly around him and buried his face in his neck. It took a full second or two for Jim to realize that Blair was murmuring something over and over into his neck, and another to decipher it.

“Jim! Jim! You’re all right! They didn’t get you. You’re okay! Jim, oh God, Jim! Thank God you’re all right!” 

“Whoa, Chief! Where’s the fire?” Jim tried briefly, with no success, to peel Blair back enough to look into his face.

“Everywhere, man! Can’t you see it? The whole place is burning down! Come on, we’ve got to get out of here!” Blair made a move to climb down off of Jim, but Jim clutched him tightly.

“Hang on there, partner. There’s no fire.”

“Jim! We’ve got to get out of here! The fire people are going to burn us alive!”

Jim pitched his voice for ultimate calm. “Blair, you have a fever. You are hallucinating. It sounds like the fever may have triggered a Golden flashback.”

“But the flames!!”

“There are no flames. There is no fire. It’s just the fever talking.”

Blair pulled his head back to look Jim in the eye. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

Blair snuck another wide-eyed stare over Jim’s shoulder, then closed his eyes tightly and buried his face in Jim’s neck again. “If you say so.”

Jim grinned and patted his friend’s back. “I say so.”

Again, he was struck to his core by the trust this man placed in his so very fallible self. Abruptly, Jim decided that perhaps a cool shower would help bring Blair’s temperature, and hopefully his head, down out of the clouds. Carrying his considerable armful the few steps to the bathroom, Jim kicked the door shut behind him and carefully deposited Blair in the tub, leaning him against the back wall and gently peeling away his tightly wrapped extremities one by one. 

Blair made one small murmur of protest, then simply leaned his head back weakly against the tile as Jim swiftly divested Blair of his shirt and then himself of his shorts, maintaining a firm grip on Blair’s upper arm all the while. Reaching down with his free hand, Jim turned on the water and adjusted the temperature to something just slightly more than lukewarm. He wanted to cool Blair down without severely shocking his system. Satisfied, he set the knob to shower and the head to light spray. Moving to block most of it, he gathered Blair up close to his body, letting the overflow gradually dampen him. 

Blair’s brief outburst of energy seemed to have drained away and he sagged limply in Jim’s arms, still radiating a very respectable degree of heat. It was like embracing the sun. Moving slowly, Jim turned them both so that he was now leaning against the wall, supporting Blair against his chest as the spray spattered them. Presently, he reached across Blair’s back and turned him to face the spray, letting the water wash away the residue of whatever the hell had gone on last night. Jim helped it along by running a bar of soap across Blair’s chest and abdomen, building up a good lather under the light spray. He hesitated a moment as he reached the lower regions. Unbidden, the sense memory of Blair’s naked parts pressing against his belly flowed over and through him and a tremor of desire rocked him. Jim thumped his head back against the hard tiles behind him a couple of times, trying to rein in the nearly overwhelming directive of his body to act. He was not going to molest his partner when he was out of his mind with fever. He wasn’t. 

But even as he struggled with his own inappropriate lust, Blair sighed, pressed back against the bare chest behind him, resting his head once more against Jim’s shoulder, and spread his legs. Just a little. Just enough to knock Jim over the edge of a precipice he had just begun to realize he was teetering on. There was a funny little dip and sway and when the universe realigned, Jim found himself carefully soaping Blair’s lower belly, skirting down past nested curls to the furry curved firmness of an inner thigh, then back up, cupping the curiously vulnerable soft-hardness of male genitals. 

From somewhere close by there came a sharp gasp, but Jim was too entranced with the giddy sensation of actually caressing Sandburg’s package to pay much heed to anything else.

That which had been semi-erect in the kitchen, then relaxed in the tepid shower, was swiftly swelling under his sudsy ministrations and Jim felt his little fiction of ‘just getting Blair cleaned up’ vanish like the soap bubble it had been. Blair moaned and pressed back against him harder, making him even more aware of his own arousal, now pressing intently at the sweet spot just above Blair’s rump. Blair rolled his head against Jim’s shoulder and his arms, which had been hanging loosely at his sides, thrust back abruptly, his hands gripping Jim’s thighs tightly. He was panting a little, yet when he spoke he sounded very calm.

“Jim?”

Jim slowed his exploratory sudsing but didn’t stop. 

“Yeah?” That brought him back a bit. His voice sounded dreamy, almost drugged, even to himself.

“Am I having another hallucination?”

“Don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what’s happening?”

“’kay. It - don’t laugh now - it seems like we’re in the shower. Together. Naked. And you, ah, well, you’re *washing* me.”

“Do you have a problem with that? Do you want me to stop?” Jim massaged Sandburg’s surprisingly large balls in his palm, savoring the heft and roll of them.

“Ahh...Oh, well, no, actually, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Hey, it’s your hallucination, Sandburg. You get to call the shots.”

“Oh. Mmmm. I do? Well, in that case,” and suddenly Blair’s voice darkened, deepened, the Guide voice with an edge. “I think you’d better kiss me, then.”

Jim shivered all over, his goosebumped flesh rippling like a horse shaking off flies. The water must be cooler than he thought.

“Now, Jim!” That velvety rough voice coiled and struck. Jim’s eyes flew open and he was staring down into deep blue eyes, scrunched a little against the spray but still tightly focused on his face and clear as a cloudless sky. And then Jim was bending, twisting, reaching his head down and around, straining to reach those lush lips even as he began stroking the hard shaft jutting straight up from the junction of Blair’s legs, his other arm tightening around Blair’s waist, steadying them both and pulling Blair more firmly against his own growing excitement.

Their lips met, open mouth to open mouth, and Jim surged forward to invade that welcoming heat only to find the way blocked and his own mouth filled with a slippery, questing intruder. 

{Hide the silver!} 

The thought flashed through his brain and was gone. Jim groaned around the tongue that had usurped his mouth, shaken to his innermost self at the intensity, the connectedness he felt. Blair was in him. In his mouth and in his hand, yet Jim felt surrounded by him. A circuit had closed and it was as if current was flowing back and forth between them, flowing from Blair into him, into his greedily suckling mouth down to his groin, then out from his hand, wrapped so possessively around, around, around...

The world went white behind his eyeballs and there was a dull sounding roar in his ears. Somewhere a tilt sign began to flash in earnest and Jim had a dizzying sensation of being split in two, as one part of his brain turned to look at the strobing light and the rest kept right on doing what it was doing, namely leaping madly about shrieking hosannahs in one breath and denial with the next. The distracted part moved toward the sign, which was hanging over a low, dark door. There was something thudding against the other side, something that wanted out and badly. Jim knew what that was like. He hated being confined. He opened the door. 

A huge black shape hurtled past, brushing silky fur past his face. The panther landed in an undignified, untidy heap. Flowing to its feet, the large animal shook itself, then sat with its back to him, calmly smoothing its ruffled coat, the only evidence remaining of its embarrassment. Jim stared at it until yellow eyes finally turned back over a slanted shoulder in a look so full of reproach that Jim took a step back. One thought came to him then, clear as mountain water. 

{Damn closet!} 

The cat stalked off, as only an embarrassed feline can, and suddenly he was back in the shower with Blair. Blair who was speaking in low urgent tones.

“Oh, no, you don’t, Jim! Jim Ellison, you get back here, front and center! You are not getting out of this with a well-timed zone, my friend! You are soo not going to drag me into a shower, get me so hard I can’t walk and then zone out on me! Jiiim!”

Jim took stock. They were still in the shower, he was still wrapped around Blair like an anaconda and, best of all, he still had a righteous grip on Blair’s dick. This he tightened, just enough for Blair’s tirade to come to an abrupt, squeaking stop. A moment of gasping silence, then, “You’re back.”

“I’m back,” Jim agreed.

“Are you going to do that again?”

“Hmm.” Jim took a couple of contemplative strokes along the hard length in his grasp. “Nope, don’t think so.”

“Oh, good. That’s, ahh, good!”

“Yeah. Good.” Jim breathed into Blair’s ear as he continued to explore the fascinating feel of another man’s cock. Blair’s cock. Who knew it would be such a charge? To feel the soft, crinkly skin tighten over balls not his own, the heated surge of blood through another’s veins, the terrible aliveness of someone else’s straining shaft...he still had the soap in his other hand, so he brought it down to join its mate, introducing an extra element of necessary slickness. He had to crouch a little to reach, which brought his own hardness to rest in the tight little valley between Blair’s buttocks. Jim could feel his hair trying to stand on end beneath the burden of water weighing it down as this new sensation, with its very own load of implications, rocketed through his system. 

He was saved from having to consider their meaning immediately by the slap of wet curls against his face as Blair began to thrash and thrust in his grip, low animal groans emanating from his throat. Oh, this was heaven! This was powerful, heady stuff, to reduce another human to this helpless state of needy pleasure. Jim could remember feeling a pale version of this, kneeling between the thighs of a woman that he’d driven to sobbing moaning orgasm with his cock or hand or tongue, but this was somehow more, something deeper, more connected. Not even with Lila had he felt this much.

And then Blair was reaching back, grabbing Jim's ass and pulling the two of them even more tightly together, rubbing his tight little rump wildly up and down against Jim’s cock even as he thrust hard into Jim’s hands. Jim marveled at this display of coordination even as he let go with one hand to reach up and turn Blair’s face toward him, snaking forward to capture his panting mouth. And again the circuit closed, current flowing back and forth between them. Again the world went white behind Jim’s tightly closed eyes and again he could hear Niagara in the distance, but this time the white was from the pressure of his tightly closed eyelids and the roaring was his own blood pounding in his ears and he was profoundly grateful for the solid wall at his back holding them up because there was no way his legs could handle this alone and his tongue danced with Blair’s for dominance but neither seemed able to get the upper hand and he wanted to win, to control, to submit...

Jim wrenched his head away, gasping for breath, Blair’s low moan of loss coiling up around his belly and suddenly he knew, he knew how to get everything and before Blair could even get enough of himself together to raise a protest, Jim was turning him, letting the spray rinse the soapy bubbles from his front, then pushing him back against the rear wall of the shower stall, pulling him down to sit against the back edge of the tub. Blair was shaking his head and trying to grab him, pulling at his shoulders, repeating over and over the only words he seemed capable of forming. 

“Jim! Jim! Oh, please, Jim, please, please!”

Jim felt something feral stir and stretch within. Capturing the hands that pulled at him, he knelt down between Blair’s splayed knees and leaned in close, pressing weakly resisting wrists back against the cool tile and lightly brushing his morning beard against the tender skin of Blair’s neck. Savoring Blair’s responsive shiver, he growled low in his ear.

“’Oh, please, Jim’, what?” 

The was a moment of stunned silence as the squirming form before him stilled, then, “Oh! Jim, anything! Anything you want! Just please, please don’t stop! Touch me! Kiss me!” 

Blair’s furry, wet body surged up against Jim's smooth one, full frontal body contact kicking everything to whole new level. Their mouths meshed and Jim sank deep into welcoming warmth, storming past any potential resistance in a full out assault. But Blair took power back by non-resistance, opening willingly, pulling him in, using his own momentum to wrap him up close against his heaving, thrusting self. Jim almost lost sight of his goal, so overcome was he by the terrible need to bury himself in the hot, slippery form that twisted against him. The happy slap and tickle of Blair’s cock against his belly brought him back from the brink.

Slowly he pulled away, only his tight grip on his wrists keeping Blair from blindly following Jim’s mouth. Jim hung there, just out of reach of Blair’s hungrily seeking lips until Blair opened his eyes, the deep blue almost completely black with desire. Jim admired their finely glazed appearance, waited until it started to fade to a questioning look, until he was sure he had Blair’s full attention. Then, still holding his gaze, he slid slowly down his body, letting Blair’s rigid cock map a slick trail up his sternum and over his collarbone. Staring up into wide and yet widening eyes, he gingerly rubbed his finely stubbled cheek against the enpurpled shaft, lifting his chin to stroke it ever so softly over the swollen, mushroom shaped head, reveling in the sharp gasp Blair could not contain. Slowly, so very slowly, he lowered his head without looking away and ran a testing tongue over the smooth tip. Another stifled gasp was his reward and he began to tease and twirl his tongue about the sensitive, flared end. When he gave the entire length a long lascivious lick, Blair responded with a convulsive jerk and Jim had to tighten his grip, holding Blair’s hands down against his thighs.

The faint sharp tang of soap residue added a not unpleasant biting note to the complex flavors that Jim now rolled around on his tongue. Blair was nearly vibrating under him with unspoken need, watching him with glittering sapphire eyes, and Jim could tell from the now rigid set of his jaw and the quick one-two flexing of his thighs that he was using a great deal of self restraint, almost certainly in an effort to keep from wrenching free, grabbing Jim by the head and bringing this show home. The very thought galvanized Jim into action and he bent forward, sucked in a deep breath, and slowly took as much of Blair as he could into his mouth. 

Oh! Jim was finding out more new things about himself in this one morning than he had in the last ten years, and that included the Sentinel thing. Who knew this would be something he could even tolerate, much less a mind-blowing, heart-stopping, breath-stealing epiphany? He had another man’s dick in his mouth and it was Christmas and the Fourth of July all at once. 

{Because it is Blair}

Eyes closed, feeling more and more overwhelmed, Jim took a moment to adjust, ignoring for now the fireworks going off against the black backdrop of his eyelids. This was his present and he was going to unwrap it slowly. He fluttered his tongue against the underside of the shape filling his mouth, tracing the tiny scar just below the head. Even now there was some distraught corner of his self quoting “Thou shalt nots” at him, but the rest seemed content to grok the fullness of the moment. Choking, he pulled back enough to breathe, pulled back to gather himself and get a better angle so he could get more of that beautiful beast inside him. He moved his head up and down carefully, feeling his way, then he went down as far as he could, until Blair’s cock was filling him, until he could feel it pushing against the back of his throat.

And still, he wanted more. 

He could smell Blair’s arousal above, beneath and through all the water and soap, feel the desire beating in his blood, pulsing in the cock in his mouth, hear the small whimpering noises squirming out of Blair’s throat. Pearls of bittersweet fluid were collecting on the back of his tongue and he swallowed around Blair’s length. Blair arched up, only Jim’s heavy grip on his thighs keeping him from ramming on down his throat. Jim pulled back, heard Blair chanting, “Sorry! Sorry!” but Jim wasn’t. He wanted Blair to do it again. He wanted Blair to use him, to fuck his mouth with abandon, to lose himself in him. That realization went straight to his groin and his own dick got impossibly harder. He wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate.  
Time to make it good.

Releasing his grip on Blair’s wrists, Jim wrapped one hand around the base of his own throbbing cock and slid the other arm around Blair’s waist. Hands freed, Blair grabbed him, one hand landing in his hair, the other on his shoulder, kneading deep into the muscles there. Jim paused and looked up into Blair’s face, always so open for him. There were so many emotions there, a kaleidoscope of love and desire, want and need, tinged just a little with something like fear. His head was thrown back and he gazed down at Jim with slitted eyes, his chest heaving.

“Do it,” Jim whispered, “Do it now!” and slid his lips back down around the proud cock bobbing before him. With a choking cry, Blair thrust forward again, pushing his shoulders back against the wall behind him, sliding one hand to the back of Jim’s neck, the grip in his hair tightening, adding a single bright note of pain to the swirling maelstrom that had become Jim’s world. He was filled, he was taken over by the need to be filled, to take as much of Blair into himself as humanly possible and he sucked and swallowed and pulled greedily, only allowing Blair to draw back enough to enable himself to grab air before diving back down, his arm around the slender waist tightening as if he feared an attempt at escape. For a moment it did seem as if Blair was struggling, but it wasn’t to escape. Jim managed to hang on to the wild little stallion he had roped, but it was a rough ride. Hips bucking, twisting and thrusting with abandon, Blair poured himself forth with a shout, pulling out all the stops as he tried to climb inside Jim dick first, his hold tightening even more as he began to seize up in the throes of his orgasm. 

Jim had only managed to give himself a couple of encouraging strokes before having to hold on with both hands, but the onset of Blair’s orgasm was more than enough to drive him over the edge. He was so hooked into the combined organism they had become that he could feel the swell crashing over Blair as if it were his own. And the instant the primal taste of Blair’s ejaculate exploded in his mouth, it was. If what had gone before was fireworks, this had to be classified as nuclear. Aftershocks coursed through both of them, each setting off the other like ripples in a pond.

With one arm still around Blair’s waist and the other looped under and over a thigh, Jim laid his head against Blair’s still heaving belly. Blair wrapped both arms around Jim’s head and tilted his own back against the tile, his breath coming in deep gulps. After several moments, Jim ventured to speak.

“Chief? You okay?”

A slightly hysterical sounding giggle was his first answer, then slowly, as if Blair were gradually remembering how to form words, came the second.

”Oh, I’ll say. Better. Better than okay. Better than anything. You bet your boots.“ Another giggle. “If you were wearing any.”

Jim smiled into the stripe of fur that centerlined Blair’s belly. 

“That sounds a little kinky, Chief.” 

His smile turned swiftly to a slight frown as he felt a faint shiver sweep through Blair. He could actually feel the goosebumps rising up against his forearm where it pressed against Blair’s leg. He disentangled their limbs and rose to his feet, pulling Blair up along with him against vague protestations. Reaching back, he turned the heat up on the water and rinsed the both of them off thoroughly. Blair leaned sleepily against Jim’s side, murmuring something unintelligible into his shoulder.

“What’s that, Chief?”

“I said,” Blair answered with elaborately careful enunciation, “Don’t wash away my afterglow.”

Jim snorted as he wrenched off the water and plucked a towel from the bar. 

“The only thing you’re glowing from is that fever. Which is down for now.” 

He wrapped the large bath sheet around Blair, then another, smaller towel around his hair. Twisting yet another towel around his own narrow hips, he bundled Sandburg through the door and out into the hallway. Upon entering the cooler air outside the toasty bathroom, Blair began to shiver more visibly. Jim took one step toward Blair’s room, thinking to tuck him back in bed, when his olfactory senses were once again assaulted by the unmistakable musk of sex. Executing a neat left face, Jim began escorting the now nearly somnolent form of his Guide toward the living room. The couch would have to do for now. Nobody was sleeping in that little den of iniquity, at least not until the sheets had been changed.

Steering a listing Sandburg toward the living area, Jim was suddenly struck with another image, of a certain naked Guide in a certain Sentinel’s wide empty bed, so the sudden feel of the first stair step up to his room beneath his bare foot really came as no surprise at all.


	7. Sleep on It

The trip up the stairs was executed uneventfully enough. Even if the travelling companion tucked against his side had a tendency to nuzzle a raspy chin against certain sensitive nerve endings on his chest. Even if the towel Jim had wrapped around Blair’s sopping hair had ridden down, allowing the still damp mass to spring free and tickle maddeningly at his ear and eye. Still, they made it to the top in good time and Jim stopped at the side of the bed to pull back the covers and unwind the large bath sheet from around his friend. 

Said friend had a dopey grin plastered over his face as he allowed himself to be rubbed down briskly and then seated on the side of the bed. Jim pulled the smaller towel from around Blair’s shoulders and toweled his hair dry. When the last rogue droplet was rounded up and soaked into the now sodden towel, Jim gave Blair’s crown a finishing pat and gently pushed him back down onto the bed. 

Blankets, pillows and partner finally all arranged to his satisfaction, Jim turned to gather up the small pile of wet towels, only to have a sudden firm grip manifest around his forearm. He ran his gaze up from the square hand clasped just above his wrist to the questioning eyes locked onto his own.

“Just going to run these down to the hamper and grab another bottle of water, Chief. You’ve got to stay hydrated to keep that fever down.”

“Ah, so pouring water over me wasn’t enough, now you’re going to pour it down me again, too?” 

The dopey grin that had never entirely faded regained its former wattage and Jim was helpless but to return it with an equally dopey grin of his own. 

“Got to keep hot little numbers like you soaked down inside and out.” 

The quip escaped his mouth before he had time to consider the ramifications and fresh heat blossomed on his cheeks. Blair’s grin, however, grew impossibly wider and a bit incredulous.

“You really think I’m a hot number?”

Jim looked down at Blair’s glowing face, a backpedaling response knocked like an arrow to his lips. Instead, he said quietly, “Yeah, Chief, I do.” 

His reward was a look that nearly melted him in his tracks. Suddenly, he was glad for the strong grip on his arm, his legs having gone weak with desire. Staring into the incandescent face before him, he almost didn’t catch the husky words formed by those lush lips.

“C’mere.”

He went. Leaning down as if pulled by strings, he let himself sink into a warm embrace, lips melding with Blair’s, the sweet taste a tiny explosion in Jim’s mouth. Kneeling on hard floor next to the bed, arms wrapped around sturdy shoulders, stubble rasping against stubble as the kiss deepened, Jim couldn’t imagine a better place to be, anyplace he’d rather be. Until Blair pulled at him, coaxing him up to the bed to lie alongside him. 

And that really was heaven. To lie on his own big bed, stretched out comfortably with Blair tucked up against his side, the now late morning sun slanting in through the skylight delineating the curves and planes of Blair’s face as it began to relax into sleep, this was surely as happy as he’d ever been. The wet towels on the floor drifted accusingly across his consciousness as he began to drowse, but they had no power to rouse him now. Reluctantly, loathe to lose sight of Blair sleeping beside him, Jim slowly let his own eyelids close and followed him into oblivion.


	8. Breakfast of Champions

Blair wasn’t sure what exactly him pulled from the depths of sleep. He was sure that he didn’t want to go. It was a good sleep, a deep and soothing sleep of such restful proportions that might never be found again, so it was no wonder he was supremely reluctant to leave its warm embrace. But awareness would have its way, it seemed, and he drifted, a little petulantly, just at the edge of its surface, musing briefly over some of the images he recalled from his dreams. 

A particularly graphic one of himself entwined with Jim jolted him further awake and he chuckled ruefully to himself. That was one way to get the old system running of a morning. He was considering whether to take care of his incipient morning stiffie right away or wait until he showered when he opened his eyes to the completely unexpected view of the loft bedroom. He startled back into even more unexpected warmth and Jim’s sleepy voice saying “What’s so funny, Sandburg?”

Body frozen with shock, Blair squeezed his eyes shut tight. He must still be dreaming. That must be it. He’d open his eyes in a moment and he’d be back, alone, in his own little room. Jim would probably still be asleep upstairs after getting in late from the stakeout, so he’d have to be really quiet while he made coffee...

The warmth behind him moved. 

Blair scrambled up as if he’d discovered a snake in his bed, whipping around to stare wide-eyed at the vacated space behind him. A sleep-grogged Jim was raising bleary eyes to his, saying, “Careful there, Chief. Bathroom run isn’t worth breaking your neck over. You’re probably still a little under...” 

Blair whirled, seeking flight, but instead began a slow-motion descent toward the floor, his head having outrun the blood supply. There was a fwhump as sheets flew, then strong arms caught him, settling him easily on the side of the bed and damned if that didn’t feel strangely familiar. He looked up at a gently smiling Jim, who shook his head with mild dismay as he straightened, gently gripping Blair’s shoulders.

“I told you so,” Jim was saying. “Your whole system is probably still a little wiped. You’re going to have to take it easy for a couple of days until you...” He trailed off as the stunned expression on Blair’s face began to register. His hands slipped slowly off Blair’s shoulders to curl at his sides. “You don’t remember, do you?” 

Blair continued to stare up at Jim. 

Remember? 

Remember what? 

He’d finally fallen asleep in his own bed, dreamt some really out there stuff, and awakened to find himself upstairs in Jim’s bed. 

Naked. 

With Jim. 

Also naked. 

Unclothed. 

Bareass. 

Starkers. 

Jaybird-like. 

Blair gave himself a shake. He even managed to get his mouth to stop opening and closing like a fish. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jim. 

Jim, who was looking back at him. 

Jim, who was standing in front of him in all his naked glory and what a glorious nakedness it was. 

So taken was Blair by the view that he almost missed the iron shutters beginning to come down over Jim’s face. It was subtle, just a slight tightening of the jaw, a dimming of that still gentle smile, but suddenly, Blair knew this was a Very Important Moment. One he couldn’t afford to let slip by, one that could very well shape the rest of his life. Something was happening here, and Blair knew that he had to be very careful and pay very close attention, plan his next move very precisely, because this could be terribly important. Important to Jim, important to himself, and most importantly, important to their continued lives together. First move--stop those steel curtains from closing!

Forming what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Blair ran through a short list of options, meanwhile forestalling Jim with a touch on the arm.

“Whoa, man! Let me get my bearings. I came pretty close to taking a nosedive there.”

Bingo. Jim’s face shifted, the closed-off look changing to one of concern. Now, to play for time. 

“Sit down here, man. I’m getting a crick in my neck.” 

Not to mention becoming extremely distracted. Whoa! Jim in the buff was just so, well, buff! And whoa indeed, now his head was spinning for real. Jim had obediently seated himself on the bed, actually rubbing one of his barenaked thighs against Blair’s and suddenly, what had seemed out of reach last night was definitely within reach now. Within reach, and from the looks of things, looking to be reached. And was he actually scoping out Jim’s lap? Oh yes, yes he was, and it looked like that periscope was in the up and ready position. He had seen Jim naked before, sure, but never like this! His own dick was still poking out like a roadside attraction and he stepped aside from the whirlwind of his thoughts for a small moment of satisfaction. Despite all other disparities in their size and build, in this one area Jim and he compared quite nicely, thankyouverymuch. 

A mild throat clearing noise brought Blair back to the here and now in time to hear Jim say, “Were you going to say something else, Sandburg, or were you just going to sit there and compare morning glories all day?”

Already lightheaded, Blair could feel the giddiness rising within. Manfully, he tried to hold it back, but a multitude of small sniggers were beating wildly against the back of his throat. One got away through his nose and the next thing he knew, he was rolling back and forth on Jim’s big bed, guffawing and chortling, with a bemused Jim gazing down at him.

“Sandburg!” Jim said sternly, eliciting a fresh shower of giggles.

“Chief!” Jim pleaded. This only brought on snorking and pointing.

“Blair!” Jim whined. At last Blair caught his breath long enough to gasp out actual words.

“Morning glories! Only you!” Blair wheezed, “Only you!” 

Mystified, Jim stared down at Blair’s rolling, writhing form. More laughing, more wheezing, only now it was starting to take on a tinge of hysteria. Jim took the only action that seemed appropriate. 

He pinned Blair to the bed, grabbed a handful of hair on either side of Blair’s head and proceeded to apply emergency mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Of a sort. 

The response was immediate, educational, and extremely satisfying. 

First, Blair went rigid. In more ways than one. Then he just sort of melted upwards, wrapping every available appendage around Jim, stroking his hair, sighing and moaning, sucking on Jim’s tongue like it was the air he needed to breathe, but all of this gently, as if Jim were a soap bubble that might burst at any moment. After several moments of this, gratifying as they were, Jim felt the need of more intense stimulation. With a simple flexing of his hips, he found thrusting against Blair’s thigh created an extremely pleasant friction. A deep moan answered his experimental motion, more of a groan really, and Blair pulled back to stare Jim in the face.

“Jim,” he breathed, “Jim!” 

“Mmm, yep, that’s me.” Jim answered and moved in for more.

Blair cooperated fully and with enthusiasm for a moment, then pulled away again. Jim groaned in frustration, then realized he had a perfectly acceptable substitute for Blair’s mouth within reach--his neck. He especially liked the way sucking lightly along the large vein on the side made Blair gasp and squirm, arching back as if trying simultaneously to escape and offer better access. Oh yeah, he was getting to like this. Blair’s male-hard body twisting with excitement beneath him was definitely something he was planning on getting used to. 

A sudden, ugly thought buzzed him. He swatted it away, but like most ugly thoughts, it soon came buzzing right back to taunt him. Did Blair really want this? He certainly seemed to in the shower, but could that have been due to the fever? 

A low growl formed in his throat as he fought against even considering that Blair might not want this. Of course he wanted. He had to want! Jim buried his face in Blair’s neck, sudden fear making him shiver against the warmth beneath him. Two hands caught his face, pulling him up to look into Blair’s wide blue eyes. Words were tumbling all around him and Jim forced himself to listen, for better or worse.

“Jim. Jim! C’mon, man, look at me. I’ve got to see your face. C’mon, I got to know if you’re with me here. I remember last night. I remember now. I don’t know how you knew or what you knew, I’m just glad you did, y’know?”

Last night? A tiny shock of alarm prickled Jim’s scalp. Just exactly what had happened last night? And what did he know?

“I don’t know why you did what you did, but I’m glad you did. Very glad. I’ve wanted you for so long. I just wish I’d been a little more participatory. Heh. At least the first time. I think I took you a little by surprise that second time.”

Second time?

“What are you going about, Chief?”

“Last night. When you came home and...ohmigod.”

“What?”

“You don’t remember!”

“I don’t remember what?” Jim tried to pull away, but Blair pushed up and over so that he landed on top of him. Which for some reason felt very familiar. He wasn’t given much time to examine this strange sense of deja vu, however, because Blair was apparently just getting started.

“Don’t pull away from me, Jim. Not now! I wake up in your bed, you accuse me of not remembering, which, I admit, I didn’t at first, but it’s all coming back to me, and then you kiss me! That’s not exactly standard operating procedure around here. So now I want to know what’s going on with you.”

Jim stared up into Blair’s concern-filled face. Pushy little bastard. He gripped Blair’s upper arms, thinking to push him back, but instead yanked him down on to his chest. Long curls became a curtain about them as he stilled those lips with a bruising kiss. Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah. This was more like it! Blair’s weight rode him, held him down as he strove up toward Blair’s mouth, burrowing into that sweet, wet heat, using lips and teeth and tongue in a language mere words could never hope to rival, trying to translate something beyond words into something tangible between them. 

Moaning low in his throat, Blair surrendered his mouth, obediently opening for Jim’s newly linguistic tongue, offering, if not complete understanding, at least the willingness to try. And it was that very willingness, that ability to surrender himself to what Jim seemed to need, the desire to make things right for Jim, the joy taken in doing so, all these things, that finally broke through to Jim’s heart. With startled grunt Jim jerked back, eyes widened in shock, holding Blair back by his shoulders. Blair, lips still at the ready, slowly opened his eyes to gaze down at Jim’s very stunned face. 

Blair blinked. “What?”

Jim just stared at him. Blair felt the beginnings of a major panic attack, like he hadn’t had in years, gathering at the edges of his consciousness, storm clouds hanging low on the horizon. He was suddenly very sure that the grace period had ended, the magic was over, Jim had just realized what the hell was going on and was about to go medieval on his ass. Swallowing, Blair gripped his courage with both metaphorical hands, reminded himself that Jim would never hurt him, and tried again.

“Jim? You still with me here?”

Jim blinked, gave a little all-over shake and then, in a voiced tinged with wonder, said softly, “You love me. You’re in love with me!” 

Blair raised his chin in defiance. “Yeah?” he said defensively. “Like you’re not loopy over me?”

Jim shook his head. “No. No, I mean, I am!! Loopy over you, I mean. But, you actually, really do love me. Admit it! You do!”

Blair pulled away, turning his back and crossing his arms. 

“Yeah, I do, dammit. I love you. Have for a long time. I love you and I’m in love with you. Happy now?”

Jim thought about it for a second, rolling the concept around in his head for a moment, savoring the nuances, then reached out and gathered his huffy guide against him, nuzzling his still dampish curls. 

“Yeah, believe it or not, I am. Very, very happy.” He tightened his hold around Blair’s tense frame, feeling each micrometer of relaxation until Blair was leaning his head back to look at him, unconsciously mirroring their position from earlier that day. Jim grinned down at Blair’s bemused but hopeful expression. “Ecstatic even.”

Blair began to smile in spite of himself. 

“Ecstatic, huh? Not getting hyperbolic, are you, Ellison?”

“Blair, I’ve been in love with you for so long now, I think ecstatic just scratches the surface.”

Blair’s eyes went wide and round.

“Wow!” he exhaled softly. “When did you know?”

Now it was Jim’s turn to look uncomfortable.

“Well, I didn’t know know, you know. I knew I felt something more than friendship for you, but I didn’t really know what it was until recently. And stop smirking at me, Sandburg.”

“Man, from ‘Blair’ to ‘Sandburg’ in the space of three sentences. And how can I, after a declaration like that? And just how recently did you know know?”

Prickling in sudden annoyance, Jim loosened his hold on Blair, but Blair turned in his arms and kissed him. His lips touched Jim’s with purpose, promise and intent, and Jim was lying back on the bed with a double armful of naked Blair whispering softly in his ear before he had time to formulate another thought. Mollified, Jim turned his head a little, allowing better access to his neck, and stretched out, tacitly offering himself up as he listened to the soothing words pouring like honey from his guide. 

“Aww, Jim, you know I’m teasing you. Let’s relax and figure this out together. I’ve loved you probably since the first time you slammed me up against a wall, but I know what you mean. I didn’t know I was in lust with you. Not until...well, one day it was just there. Kind of like a big white elephant in the living room that nobody talks about.”

Jim closed his eyes and pictured it. “An elephant, hmm?” 

“Yeah. And everybody tiptoes around it and looks past it until one day it just reaches out with that long twisty trunk and maybe starts feeling you up.” Blair suited action to words and began caressing Jim, running one hand over cock and balls, down the inside of his thigh, then back up, questing across his chest as if in search of peanuts. Jim heard himself make a sound embarrassingly close to a giggle and trapped Blair’s hand against his heart. Blair just transferred action from hand to lips, kissing reverently behind Jim’s ear and along his neck, sighing words as he did so.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long now. It was so good to touch you last night, when I finally could. Wanna touch you all the time, touch you everywhere, kiss you, taste you...”

“Chief?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Maybe you should fill me in on this ‘last night’ business.”

Blair raised his head to stare down at him.

“Fill you in?”

“Yeah, I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”

Blair colored.

“The details? You want to discuss the details?”

“Maybe not details exactly, maybe just more of an overview.”

“Overv...Jim, just how much of last night do you remember?”

“Well, I remember unlocking the door...”

“That’s it?!” Blair pushed himself up on one arm.

“No, that’s not it. I also remember going toward your room. I remember feeling like I should check on you, see if you were all right...”

“And?”

“And, that’s about it.”

“Oh! Oh, wow!” Blair sat upright.

“Oh, wow, what?

“Nothing. Nothing.” Blair turned away. “Maybe some things are better left alone.”

“What do you mean?” Jim’s voice gained a note of alarm. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Blair snorted. “As if! No, Mister Hyde, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Then what aren’t you telling me?

“You really don’t remember?”

“Sandburg!”

“Okay, okay, just don’t say I didn’t try to spare you. You’ll probably find out when the neighbors file their complaints, anyway.”

“Complaints!”

“I’m just really glad that, apparently anyway, nobody called the cops. Because even I couldn’t come up with an explanation.” Blair shook his head in bemused disbelief, spirals of hair swinging with the motion. 

“Explanation for what?” The note of alarm was swiftly sliding up the scale toward exasperation.

“Okay, Jim, I’m going to tell you. Mostly because I’ve got to know what could bring on that type of behavior. I mean, up to now, you’ve never demonstrated any predilection for parading around the living room like gallus domesticus.”

Jim sat up. “Gallus Domest...A chicken?”

“Yeah. It was kind of cute at first, what with you clucking and strutting about all arms akimbo, but when you started crowing out on the balcony...” 

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying I was behaving like some kind of giant chicken?”

“I believe the crowing would actually qualify as some kind of giant rooster.”

And Jim almost bought in, almost even started trying to construct some kind of damage control scenario, but Blair couldn’t maintain. His left eye was twinkling, his mouth twitching slightly on the right and Jim realized he was being had. 

“A rooster, hmm?” Blair really should have been tipped off by the deceptively soft-voiced question. Unfortunately, he was too busy demonstrating the choreography of the fabled Giant Jim Chicken Rooster. Scrambling off the bed and tucking his hands up under his armpits, Blair began to scrape and bob and flap in a very credible imitation of a barnyard rooster preparing to greet the day. He scratched at the floor with his bare feet, stretched his neck upwards, drew a deep breath--and hit the bed with a giant squawk as Jim snagged him about the waist and threw him bodily down on the mattress.

“I’ll show you who’s a rooster, chicken boy.”

“Now, Jim...” Blair scrambled backwards, laughing, but Jim was already over him, teeth gleaming in a predatory grin.

“Now, Blair...” he mimicked. “There’s an old saying: payback’s a bitch.” 

Blair’s retreat was short and sweet, as Jim backed him to the railings. Jim bore down inexorably, savoring the helpless side-to-side glances for nonexistent avenues of escape, the quickening of his prey’s breath and heart rate as the fight-or-flight reflex kicked in, the unmistakable scent of arousal even as the prey seemed to accept his fate, raising hands in a placating gesture.

“Okay, okay, you got me, copper. So, what are you going to do with me?”

“I think the question might rather be, what am I going to do to you.” 

Now that was interesting. A slow, deep flush suffused Blair’s entire body. Jim tilted his head and ran a slow hand up one flank, relishing the wild animal feel of a panting Blair. So taken was he that he almost missed the tiny, hitching squeak.

“Umm, to me?” 

Oh, great. Now the guy was having second thoughts. After a night of apparently hot, if not mutually remembered, sex, after a morning spent in the shower together, after waking up naked in the same bed at least twice, now he wanted to start questioning things.

“You got a problem with that?” he growled.

“Uh, yes. No. I don’t know!” Blair could feel his face glowing redder by the moment, but that was the least of his worries. Jim had his ‘I just can’t believe you, Sandburg’ face on, which, while usually amusing, hadn’t nearly the turn-on value of the ‘Here comes the Big Bad Puddy Tat and guess who’s the mouse’ face he’d been wearing just a moment ago. 

And that was too bad, really, because up until a moment ago, things had been good. Up until the moment Jim had muscled him onto the bed, things had been very good. It was just that he hadn’t been prepared for the enormity of feeling that engulfed him when he looked up to see Jim descending on him. He had been hit by a wave of desire so immense that he suddenly felt lost, adrift on the uncharted sea of Jim’s bed, a wild storm in the form of Jim coming down on him, and he couldn’t deal, couldn’t cope with the roiling, seething mess that had become of his emotions. He was getting such conflicting messages from himself--Run! Hide! Grab on and stay!-- that he was almost paralyzed. He covered his face with both hands and tried to take several deep, cleansing breaths, trying to get a grip before he just lost it completely.

Jim pulled back in concern. Blair really seemed to be having some kind of crisis. A little clumsily, Jim patted at his friend’s hair, reining in hard on his own lust.

“Hey, Blair, it’s okay. I’m not trying to push you. We can take this as slow or as fast as you want. Hell, I’m not sure we should be doing anything! Just this morning you were running a pretty good temp and...” 

Jim’s voice trailed off as Blair pulled his hands away from his face and gazed up at him with a look of sheer disbelief. Jim was trying to formulate another tack when Blair's compact form coiled up and struck, forcing him over backwards in a move that was beginning to feel a little bit overused. He was going to point this out, but Blair was hissing in his face, saying, “Shut up! Just shut up!” over and over until Jim got the idea and closed his mouth. Only to have Blair’s tongue forcing it open again as he swarmed in. 

And Jim felt electricity spark through him until he would have been sure his hair was standing on end, if he’d been able to spare a thought for such things. As it was, it was all he could do to hang on as Blair literally took him in hand, boldly wrapping the right one around his dick while he staked a claim with his tongue on every square centimeter of his mouth. Jim’s sensory control spun wildly, the twin assaults on two of the more sensitive parts of an already sensitive body taking him more than a little off guard. But instead of fighting for control, Jim felt himself casting loose, letting go and trusting to Blair to keep him safe. 

Like a covey of startled quail, his senses flew out, sending back intricate and intense details, reams of information all screaming for equal time. The warm grasp on his dick and the ongoing onslaught to his mouth called them back, luring them in with promises of blissful pleasure, long, pulling caresses dragging them back home. Blair’s amazingly warm, wet mouth left Jim’s, an almost unbearable loss -- until it found his right nipple. 

The sudden intense suckling made Jim grunt in helpless astonishment as liquid fire ran up his nerve endings. And still he wasn’t prepared, was not even remotely capable of restraining the almost keening noise seizing his throat, as those hot, moist lips deserted one bundle of nerve endings and blazed a path over his rippling, quivering belly toward another. And he wasn’t ready, how could he ever be ready, when that longed-for mouth closed at last over his straining, needy cock. His senses whirled and shimmered together, touch arching over all the rest to slam his head back on the mattress, wet sucking sounds flaming through his ears and dancing through the blackness of his tightly closed eyes, then scent tweaking up yet another notch until he thought he might come just from their combined musk. He whipped his head back and forth, grasping frantically with blind hands, desperately trying to hold on to this amazing, mind-blistering second where he hung, windmilling on the knife edge of orgasm.

Some tiny part of Blair took pleased note of Jim’s writhing responses. The rest of him was too busy trying to get as much Jim inside as possible to really care. When Jim had started that ridiculous nonsense about “maybe we shouldn’t”, his momentary paralysis had been miraculously cured. The very thought that this opportunity to touch and be touched might be withdrawn had galvanized him into motion.

At first just taking Jim’s mouth had seemed bold and exciting enough to last at least a year or so, but then the hard heat nudging against his hip had called out to be quenched. Memory flashes of a hot mouth slurping up his own dick fed his next move which, while having the very nice side effect of making Jim writhe and mewl like a kitten, primarily gave him the epiphany of finding that he really, really liked going down. 

On dick. 

On Jim’s dick, anyway. Nothing that new, not really, he supposed (or would later, when his thinking mind had taken back over from the lizard brain that was currently in charge). He’d always enjoyed tasting his lovers. Aside from making the woman of the moment extremely happy, and hence upping the odds for a repeat performance, it was just a really fun thing to do. 

But now he was finding that getting a face full of dick wasn’t just fun. It was necessary. He needed that thick piece of meat like he needed air. Maybe even more. Needed to feel it, taste it, swallow it, get as much of it in him as possible because he’d never realized how empty he’d been before, how hollow and lonely. He wanted to be filled and he wanted it now, dammit! 

He was almost growling with need, with trying to encompass as much as possible of Jim into his untried throat, with wanting to feel the length and girth of Jim stretching his lips, hollowing his cheeks, sliding in and out, in and out, a timeless rhythm building, swelling, pounding, Jim thrusting helplessly into him, taking his mouth. Blair had both arms wrapped tightly around Jim’s hips so he could feel Jim struggle, feel Jim straining upwards while still fighting to control his thrusts, trying not to be too rough, but wanting it, desperately wanting that mouth, Blair’s mouth, lips and tongue and teeth, wanting it all. 

And Blair wanted Jim to have it all, so when he felt Jim’s back arch and his ass clench, felt him trying to hold back, heard the garbled attempt at warning, he held on tight, swirled his tongue twice around the flared tip and took him deep, swallowing hard as he did so. 

“Blair!” One short, sharply bitten out syllable, as if it were torn from him, and Jim shot--short hot pulses that Blair swallowed hungrily, easily, only letting the spent flesh slide from his lips when it became evident that touch was becoming too much for the over-sensitized skin. Flipping his hair back out of his eyes, Blair slid carefully upwards, relishing the quivering response of overworked nerve endings firing spasmodically, until he was snug against Jim’s side, fitting into the slight hollow at the shoulder that seemed made to rest his head against. 

Sighing blissfully as strong arms came up around him, Blair tipped his head back, not even trying to control the impish grin tugging at his swollen lips as he took in Jim’s face. Oh, yeah, he’d rocked his world all right.

“So, you were saying?” His grin widened at the unintelligible mmrph he received in response. “Something about not doing anything?”

A deep sigh, almost a groan, rumbled through the deep chest he rested his head upon.

“Okay, Chief. You win.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah!”

Silence reigned for a time, broken only by the sound of deep breathing. But as the thrill of victory began to settle, Blair realized two things. He was still hard and he was starving. He poked a finger into the ribs next to his cheek. 

“Hey!” Aww, nobody yelped cuter than Jim.

“Hey, yourself. Where’s my prize?”

“Prize?”

“Yeah. Prize. You said I won, now I want my prize.”

“I see. And suppose you tell me what you think that might be, Ace.”

“Well, for starters, maybe you could take care of this.” Blair boldly pulled Jim’s hand down over the now aching hardness between his legs. “And for seconds...” Blair’s stomach rumbled on cue. “For seconds, you could take care of that.”

“Something whet your appetite, Chief?”

The hot flush that coursed through him only served to increase his arousal and Blair pushed against Jim’s hand where it cupped him gently. 

“You could say that. Then again, you could shut up and take care of it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk first? ”

Blair looked up at Jim. 

“Talk?”

“Yeah, talk. You know, that thing where you make sounds with your mouth that can be interpreted as having meaning? ’S funny, I could have sworn you were familiar with the concept.”

“Jim, you better get familiar with the concept of getting me off and fast, or I just might go medieval on your ass.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you watch that movie. It’s poisoned your young and impressionable mind.”

“One, you didn’t let me watch anything, I had to drag your ass to that movie, bitching and moaning the whole way that you didn’t want to see some candyass art film, which it isn’t; two, you loved every minute of it; and three, stop trying to change the subject at hand. So to speak.” He punctuated that statement with another bump into Jim’s hand. 

“Feeling a little cocky, are we?”

“Jim, I think that if you extend your senses properly, you’ll discover it’s more than just a little.”

Jim rolled toward him and propped his head on his hand, taking a firmer hold on Blair’s exuberant erection. 

“Hmm. I see what you mean. So, what do you think we ought to do about this?

“Umm, could you...do you think you might be interested in, maybe...” Blair was making a complicated, semi-arcane gesture, involving both hands and comprised mostly of a sort of sweeping motion that gathered in Jim, himself and the spot where Jim’s hand covered him. Jim arched an eyebrow as understanding dawned.

“You want me to go down on you?” Jim watched, fascinated, as another full body flush washed over Blair, an effect nearly as intoxicating as the thought of taking him into his mouth again. And even if Blair seemed a trifle embarrassed, the hard length in his hand danced with anticipation. “So, I take it you like that idea?”

The sharp intake of breath was all the answer he needed, but Blair was nodding from beneath the protective shield of his arm across his face. Jim frowned and leaned in close without relinquishing his hold. 

“Is this too embarrassing for you?” he murmured into Blair’s available ear. A tiny headshake and an unintelligible mumble were his only answers. “What was that?”

“I said,” came the slow, clear reply, “If I watch, it will be all over. And I’d kind of like for it to actually happen, first.”

“Ah.” Moving in even closer, Jim bent his head down and placed his open mouth against Blair’s throat, receiving the combined offering of another gasp and a fine tremor for his efforts. Briefly he considered teasing a little, but the afterglow of his own recent release bade him be generous, so without much further preamble, just a swirling swipe or two at those tempting nipples on the way, he got right down to business. So to speak. 

He did take a moment, crouching between Blair’s spread knees, to grab a little visual appreciation as he looked up at Blair’s lust tinted face from an unfamiliar angle. Blair’s lips were still swollen from their unwonted activity, his body still ruddy with desire, all and all a sight to incite a man to action. Jim delayed only long enough to breathe in a good whiff of Blair musk, nuzzling up through the thick patch of dark wiry curls until his nose bumped up against his goal. Dusky with engorgement, pre-cum pearling at the tip, the proud flesh drew him, his mouth actually beginning to water at the thought of tasting it once again. 

With one broad lick along the big ventral vein, he reached the arrow-shaped head and enveloped it, wrapping his lips around the shaft like he was born to it, reveling in the smooth, silken glide, the eager thrust and reluctant withdrawal as Blair pumped his hips in helpless rhythm, pushing deep into Jim’s willing, wanton mouth. Jim could feel Blair’s momentum building, could actually hear the blood as it surged, pressure mounting toward the inevitable conclusion. Pulling back, Jim licked his thumbs, then reached up and roughly massaged Blair’s nipples as he returned to his cock, sucking hard, pulling him in deep. Moaning, Blair grabbed the back of Jim’s head, petting him almost frantically. Jim decided he liked that. After a moment, though, he reached up and grabbed Blair’s wrists, pushing his hands back up toward his chest. Jim released his prize for a moment.

“Touch yourself,” he whispered. 

Blair whimpered. Jim looked up at him, just touching his lips to the tip of Blair’s straining cock. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Blair began to touch his own nipples. Jim rewarded him by sliding a little further down with each touch, seeing anew the complex interplay of bold nature and shyness that were such integral parts of Blair’s nature. Boldness won out, as usual, as Blair spread his legs wider, twisting harder as Jim took him in deeper, until suddenly, he half sat up, mouth and eyes wide in a near silent scream as he came, shuddering and shaking, then crashing back against the bed, spent, harsh breathing his only movement. Jim rested his head against the near curve of a lightly furred thigh, allowing himself a moment of quiet pride at giving as good as he got, a smug smile curving his love-swollen lips. 

Until Blair’s stomach growled. 

“It’s just one thing after another with you, isn’t it?”

“Aag...ghaa.” Blair blinked at him and made another attempt at coherence. “I told you I was hungry.”

“So, what do you want?”

“Umm, french toast. With eggs. Scrambled eggs. And syrup. Hot syrup. And coffee. Hot coffee. Or no, biscuits. Biscuits and gravy and ham and eggs. And some granola. Maybe some yogurt. And bananas. Have we got any bananas?”

Jim tried to regain control of his eyebrows. “Bananas, I think we have. As for the rest, I’ll see what I can do. Or maybe I should just start forking up some hay?”

“Hey, you asked. You don’t have to cook. I can just whip up an algae shake...” Blair struggled to sit up but only made as far as his elbows before the lack of sugar in his blood (and possibly the number of orgasms achieved in such a short time) made his head spin. Jim had him lowered back to the bed before he’d even realized his own dizziness. 

“Just relax. I think I can deal with scrambling an egg or six.”

“Six!”

“A guy’s got to keep up his strength.” The leering eyebrow waggle was so out of character that Blair could only stare. Finally, though, he unfolded an answering grin and lay back against the pillows, tucking his arms casually behind his head. 

“Okeydokey, kemosabe. I’ll just keep the bed warm for you.” 

“You do that, Chief.”

Blair had strength enough to enjoy the departing view. Jim was a very buff guy, especially in the buff. Blair let his head fall back with a sigh and listened to the quiet clatter floating up from the kitchen. Life was good. So very good. And it was even better when, true to his word, Jim soon reappeared bearing a tray covered with scrambled eggs, sliced ham, bagels with cream cheese, a stack of buttered whole wheat toast with a heap of plum jam and an entire bunch of bananas. Two mugs of steaming coffee and two tall glasses of chilled orange juice completed the feast. 

Blair had one hand filled with a bagel and the other with a mug before Jim could decide where to place the platter. Blair scooted over and pointed his bagel at the spot next to him. Jim looked askance.

“Right on the bed?”

“Hey, you brought it up here. Where did you think you were going to put it?” 

“The desk.”

“But the desk is over there and we’re over here.” 

“Chief, do you have any idea what crumbs in the bed do to Sentinel skin?”

Blair’s resultant snort threatened to cause asphyxiation by cream cheese. After careful swallowing, he said, “Jim, you don’t honestly think these sheets are going to be fit to sleep on by nightfall, do you?

“Good point.” 

Jim placed the tray on the indicated spot and settled in next to it. Having written off the sheets, he had sudden, entertaining visions of using Blair as a banquet table, but the rate at which the banquet was disappearing was a sure bet of keeping that from becoming reality. Jim managed to rescue some ham and eggs and snatched a piece of toast from the clutches of the ravening beast.

“Does sex always make you this hungry?”

“Hmm, yuth.” Blair took a large swallow of juice. “I mean, yes! Especially when I haven’t eaten for more than a day.”

“You didn’t have any dinner?”

“The last meal I remember, aside from some tea, was lunch yesterday, consisting of a nearly indigestible vending machine sandwich, purported to be cheese. As if! That would have been around noon, yesterday. Umm, this is Saturday, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s Saturday, Rip. Even you aren’t likely to sleep through the entire weekend.”

Blair grinned, an unsettling gleam appearing in his eyes. “So, we still have most of the weekend left, eh?” 

“Yeah. A little more than half, counting from yesterday.”

“Cool! Stay right here. I’m going to the can and then we’re going to have some quality time.”

“Quality time?”

“You’ll see. I’ll be right back.” Blair rose and made his way carefully downstairs, taking the now barren tray with him.

For some reason, those few, simple words sent a chill down Jim’s spine, but he stayed put. 

Not without running a few escape scenarios. 

He could jerk on some clothes and make it out the door in three minutes flat, of that he was certain. Unfortunately, even a semi-plausible explanation to throw over his shoulder on the way out refused to be coaxed from the suddenly swirling depths of his mind. Besides, perhaps quality time didn’t mean what he thought it meant. Perhaps it meant (yes please) more mind-blowing sex. Maybe some cuddling. Wasn’t there a Jags game this afternoon? 

The sudden image of watching the game with a naked Sandburg on his lap was his downfall. As he was mentally arranging all the various parts to his satisfaction, the object of his fantasy padded upstairs and slid back into the bed like he belonged. Jim had to admit, he looked pretty good there, but that tinge of uneasiness hadn’t faded completely.

“Okay, quality time!” Blair proclaimed, then had to choke back laughter at the expression on Jim’ s face. If he’d ever needed to know what thinly disguised terror looked like, he did now. 

“Jim, breathe!”

Jim lay back on the bed and stared at the skylight, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He didn’t look any less tense.

“Jim, I just thought maybe we should talk about what’s happening here. You don’t have to act like it’s going to be the Spanish Inquisition.”

Jim’s mouth quirked.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting the Spanish Inquisition.”

Blair couldn’t hold back his grin as he supplied the required response.

“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!” He waited a beat, than added “But seriously, don’t you think we should talk about it?”

The pained expression returned to Jim’s face. Pained with a dash of panic.

“Jesus, Jim, what is it?”

“Do we have to do it right now?”

“No time like the present, I always say.”

“I’ve never heard you say that.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Not yours.”

“Well, it is now. “

“How ‘bout we get cleaned up first, maybe put some clothes on.”

Blair waggled his eyebrows. “Little too distracting, eh?”

“You could say that. You could also say that at least one of us needs a little freshening up.”

“Hey, I showered last night!”

“And this morning, but you could still use...”, Jim trailed off. Blair had cocked his head and his face had a sudden intent look.

“What is it?”

“Did you say this morning?”

“You don’t remember?” Jim’s stomach roiled, protesting suddenly the ham and eggs received so welcomingly just moments before. He’d been so sure that Blair was aware of what was happening...

“Jim! Jim! It’s all right! Whatever happened, it’s all right.”

Jim was up and pacing, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. Blair followed to the edge of the bed.

“I thought you knew what was happening. I thought...I didn’t think. I just wanted! “ He turned pleadingly to Blair. “I’m so sorry, Blair. I thought you were lucid!”

“Jim, what could be so bad? Relax, it’s okay.”

Jim covered his face in his hands. 

“I was so sure!”

“Jim, just because I don’t remember right now doesn’t mean I wasn’t in charge of myself then. Give yourself a break!”

Jim stared at him.

“What?”

“I’m just trying to say, it’s okay. Whatever happened, it’s okay.” Blair kept his voice soothing and calm, when he really wanted to grab the big lug by the shoulders and shake that horrible pinched look right off his face.

“But I could have...I almost...”

“Jim, you’re just going to have to trust me. There’s nothing you could do to me that I wouldn’t want.”

“But...”

“There’s no but. Read my lips. There is nothing you could do to me that I wouldn’t want.”

“Look, Blair, I don’t think you realize what you’re saying. This morning you were running a fever. We showered together!” 

Blair’s expression very clearly supplied the “And?” 

“And I almost...almost took you!”

“Oh. Oh! Okaay...okay, Jim, the keyword here is almost. Apparently you didn’t. And even if you had, would that have been so bad?”

“Wouldn’t it?” Jim was still staring at him like he’d sprouted horns and a tail. At least the pinched look had faded.

“No. Now I’m not saying I wouldn’t rather remember my first time, but as long as it’s with you...”

Blair trailed off, watching in fascination as the usually unflappable, unembarrasable Jim Ellison colored. He’d never seen him that precise shade of deep pink before. 

“Look, Jim, last night, we did some things. And I know you don’t remember all them. And at one point, you could have,” Blair felt himself color, “could have, ah, taken me, as you so delicately put it, and I couldn’t have stopped you if I’d wanted to.” Blair put his hands up placatingly, as the pink blush in Jim’s face began to drain away to chalky white. “Jim, the point is, you didn’t! Even though you were a little out of it, for reasons still unexplained,” he looked at Jim questioningly, but Jim just hunched his shoulders and shrugged. “The point is, Jim, you could never hurt me. Not really. Now sit down before you fall down.”

Jim sat. His color was a little better, but he was still pale.

“You sound pretty sure.”

“I am.”

Blair reached out and caught one of Jim’s hands, pulling it up against his chest.

“In here, I’m very sure.”

Jim caught a breath, then leaned against Blair with his cheek against the back of Blair’s neck, wrapping his free arm around his shoulders.

“Oh god, Blair.”

Blair let his other arm come up around Jim’s back and rubbed little circles there.

“It’s okay, Jim. I’m okay. We’re okay. Okay?”

Jim just hugged him tighter. After a minute he nodded and sat up, but he didn’t pull away. Keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the middle distance, he said softly, “I just couldn’t bear it if I hurt you.”

“I know, man.” Blair swallowed past the lump growing in his throat. “I feel the same way.”

Jim looked at him, his face so full of hope and hesitancy that Blair almost looked away. So many of Jim’s loved ones had hurt him, some with the best of intentions, some with malice, some with sheer thoughtlessness. It was no wonder the guy had a few issues. It wasn’t as if Blair didn’t have a few of his own. But right here, right now, and with a little luck, from now on, they would have each other.

“C’mon, let’s stretch out. I want to do some creative thinking.” Blair pulled at Jim’s shoulders, pushing him back against the pillows. Jim complied willingly enough, but the worry lines still creased his brow and his mouth was tight. Blair curled up next to him, half sitting up against the pillows, drawing Jim’s arm around his waist. Supporting himself with one arm, he reached across to gently stroke Jim’s brow. Jim made an appreciative noise.

“Like that?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

Blair leaned down and brushed a kiss against Jim’s temple.

“Me, too.”

They were quiet together for several moments. Slowly, minutely, Jim began to relax. After all, he was lying in his own bed with the one person he most wanted to be there with. What could be so terrible? 

“About last night...”

Later, Blair would swear he heard the twang as Jim tensed up all over again.

“Jim.”

“What?”

“Why are you so freaked out?”

Slowly Jim turned disbelieving eyes toward Blair.

“Well, gee, Dr. Joyce, I don’t know. Could it be that I’ve just wound up in bed with my partner? My male-like-me partner? That might do for starters. Or maybe it the fact that I have absolutely no idea how this came about?”

Blair felt the icy fingers of fear tighten around his heart. He sucked in a deep breath and held it for as long as he could.

“Are you saying you didn’t want this?”

He made as if to move away but Jim tightened his hold.

“Wait,” Jim said.

Blair stilled, fighting down a painful surge of hope.

“Blair, it’s not that I didn’t want this. I did. I do! I have for a long time. It’s just that ...I’m forty years old and this is the first time I’ve ever been seriously attracted to another man. You‘ve got to give me little time to adjust.”

Blair lost the battle, swallowing hard as hope filled his heart.

“As for not really wanting to talk about it, Blair, you’ve got to understand. I’ve had memory lapses before and it’s always been because something, well...something bad happened. Okay?”

Blair stared at Jim as understanding dawned. “You think you can’t remember last night because something bad happened?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?

“Okay, I have an idea.” A glint came into Blair’s eyes. “We’ll reenact everything that happened last night, from the time you came through the front door until you woke up this morning. Maybe that’ll jog your memory and then you can relax.”

Jim let the idea roll around his head for a moment. Then other parts wanted to play with it. 

“Everything?”

With a comically lascivious look, Blair replied, “Everything. And then, if you think you’re up to it, we can do the shower scene, too.”

A slow grin spread across Jim’s face.

“Up to it? Junior, I don’t think you realize how long I've been saving up for this.”

“Let’s see if you’re still singing that song after round three.”

Jim’s grin turned into wide-eyed amazement.

“Three?”

“Three. Now let me see. It started something like this.” And Blair pounced.

Downstairs, all alone, the phone began to ring. Reflexively, Jim reached for the bedside extension, but Blair captured his hands.

“Let the machine get it.” 

There was steel in them thar words. Jim shivered in appreciation and gave himself over to Blair’s unorthodox regression method. Meanwhile, the phone trilled plaintively three times before the answering machine picked up with Jim’s tersely recorded message. Jim was a little distracted, what with Blair licking him and all, but the dulcet tones of Naomi managed to reach his ears.

“Blair, honey? Are you there, sweetie? I just wanted to call and see if you received the tea I sent you. Be careful with the “Sweet Dreams” blend. When I told them you didn’t like licorice root, I thought they would just leave it out but I was talking with the master blender today and he mentioned that he added some extra valerian and catmint, that’s catnip you know, and I remember how it always made you so very sleepy when you were a child. Timothy said it didn’t usually affect adults that much, but I just wanted to let you know, so you could be careful. Love to you, darling, and kisses to Jim! Hope to see you soon.”

The machine whirred to itself a moment longer, but Jim was no longer listening to anything but the silken rasp of lips brushing against skin, the occasional sharp intake of breath and the sweet, sweet sound of Blair’s heartbeat next to his own.


End file.
